Meet the Super Family Album I
by KittyMayhem
Summary: Superman likes Batman. Batman likes Superman. First comes love, then comes marriage, and then...Clark's the one with the baby carriage and Bruce is still trying to figure it out six kids later. Family Life, their way. Bruce/Clark warnings inside. Mpreg!
1. Interesting Features

**_AN:_**

****Hiya people! ^-^ I know this isn't a realm I usually wander within, at least not on this particular site, but i was bored and I was reading some of my older stuff...and I decided, what the hell? I can mark this up with my insane shit as well and no one would particularly care.

At least, not in the bad sense.

So if you're not familiar with who I am or what I write, I suggest you read the profile page and the other stories aaaaannnnd the many warnings I post before I get into every fic I write.

So, quick warnings all around, yeah?

This is an MPREG. If you don't know what that is, look it up. I'm not telling you.

This is Slash, or Yaoi for the old/new school peeps hopping in on this. Again, you don't know what that is, I'm so not telling.

While I usually...**_u__sually_**...write lemons, there aren't any in this series. It's more along the lines of "Gen" fiction.

Um...I can't think of anything else to warn you about.

Oh, wait! yes I can!

I do have another fic that fits this...category...but I won't be posting it for a while. :) It's a little strange at best.

On that light note, please enjoy the story below. If you have kind words, reviews are nice. If you're feeling like a little shit and want to flame me, oh well. You wasted two mintues of your life for nothing. :) Yay!

Onward!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meet the Super Family:<strong>_

**Part 1:** Interesting Features

a.k.a.

_Vaughn asks the question:_

Another day; another reason to be grateful for coming into the house to utter silence for a change. Coming home to a place without the noise was a rare blessing, and he savored every last bit of it. Quietly toeing off his work worn shoes, he threw his briefcase in the corner with them alongside his jacket. His tie came loose, his hair un-slicked itself. Pieces of it falling in his tired blue eyes; he opened his vest and allowed himself to breathe. There was nothing more satisfying than coming home and inhaling the sweet scent of dinner being prepared by loving hands. It smelt like something he wanted in the first place. The smell alone was enough to make him drool-a trait he didn't dare openly do for the sake of his reputable face of stone. Hunger clawing at him for the mistake of eating light today, he crossed the threshold of the front room and made his way to the kitchen.

Quick light steps took him to where he wanted to be, lips moist from his licking them in his efforts not to drool. He took a right and descended upon the smell, inhaling it deeply. He was right.

Steak!

And the one responsible for it all was none other than the person he'd been looking forward to seeing all day. His butler was nowhere in sight, and neither were the others. That meant that they were alone for a bit, however long that bit may have been. Alone time was alone time in his eyes. He quickly took advantage of it and saddled up to watch his lover steadily chopping up more lettuce for the salad he was making.

"Please tell me I'm getting some of that," Bruce murmured coming up to the person hiding a grin. He slipped in behind him, arms folding contentedly around his waist. Bruce's lips greeting the side of his neck in play, he nuzzled the fine hairs behind his ears and silently begged for something to ease his growling stomach. "Come on, please?"

"You are."

"YES! I knew I married you for all the right reasons."

Bruce's outbursts often left his significant other laughing, much like now when he set down the knife. It was something he couldn't quite help. One moment he was the billboard image of the serious man, and the next he was grinning as wide as his persona would let him. If he showed teeth...Bruce hoped his lover wouldn't die of the shock.

His lover silently slipped him a piece of carrot dipped in the almighty thick goo of peanut butter. He eagerly took a bite, savoring it as he let go in trade of the peanut butter jar. He dipped it and bit again, glad for something sweet in his old age. Well, not old, but getting there. "So, how was your day, Clark?" he asked. No use in dwelling on his age now. The damage was **done**. "Any trouble?"

"I thought I was supposed to be asking you that," Clark laughed.

He shrugged and snagged a whole carrot this time. "My day was boring. You wouldn't want to hear about it."

"You're turning him down, aren't you."

"The weasel can try his luck elsewhere."

"Shady business?"

"Yeah. But enough about that idiot. How are you fairing?"

Fairing was a nice term for it. He meant to ask Clark if he was ready to pop. He looked like he was on the verge of doing so at this point. Turning to rest a light hand on his swollen belly, Clark grinned softly and rubbed the tender area where he'd been kicked all day. "Your son is going to be the death of me," he muttered. He smiled to show he was kidding, but the change was taking its toll on him. That much he could see when he leaned back to pop something back into place. "Standing is helping, but my hips can't take much more."

"You put in for maternity leave already?"

A nod. "Yeah. Perry's not happy. Neither is Lois."

They were never happy when he put in that notice. Ah well. Such was the life they led alongside various others. "They'll get over it."

"They want me back a month after."

"They want to keep their jobs, right?"

Again Bruce was graced with the gentle laughter of his lover. He smiled. He was serious. No one messed with the man who bought the Daily Planet as a wedding gift to himself and the love of his life. He was going to have to remind those two about that tonight when his lover was asleep.

"Oh, Alfred went to grab the kids from their activities, so he should be back any minute. When they get in here, can you—"

The door opened and closed. The thundering footsteps of not one, but several pairs of feet ended his already known request. Bruce lifted himself off the counter's edge and kissed those lips tainted with peanut butter. "I'll handle it."

"Dad!"

"Daddy~~~!"

"Hey pops!"

"Daddee!"

They came flying out of the hallway and into his waiting embrace. One, two, three, four, **five** bodies plastered themselves to him and talked all at once.

His lover, rather, his husband and the mother of his children grinned at the sight of them.

It was interesting. Here they were, two very different people with different takes on life, sitting here watching five young bodies squirm excitedly to get their dad's attention. Mother was cooking, so they'd bother him at the dinner table when they were stuffing those mouths. He patted each one on the head, avidly listening as best as one man could, until his savior in the form of his butler came about.

"All right you guys, upstairs to change. And wash those hands and faces."

Four of the five obediently went. The last and the youngest of their little brood stayed and tugged at his shirt. Effortlessly Bruce picked him up, placed him on his hip and handed him that carrot with a bit of peanut butter on it. "Did you have a good day today?"

What three-year old didn't have a good day? He nodded and scrunched up his face. "Da?"

"Hmm?"

"Mmm...where da baby coming out?"

And it would be the little one to ask the one question they'd avoided for a little while now. He coughed. His husband/wife blushed horribly and busied himself the remnants of dinner. Of course, his butler was nowhere to be found.

"Daddee? Momo said...said babies come from...mommy's pee-pee..."

Momo was his way of addressing Momiji, a girl in his day-care class that liked to fill his head with things no three year old should really know. Why she knew, and why she thought she could enlighten all was a puzzle even the Riddler couldn't grasp.

"Bruce—!"

"I know, I know. No details."

"No! Why is that girl still telling him all this?"

"Don't worry about it, Clark. I'll take care of it."

Well, she was half right. At least, he knew now. Back then...he wasn't too sure.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ten years ago...<strong>_

_He'd just rolled over to bury himself further into the pillow when a muffled yelp came from his fiancé. Bruce figured it was nothing more than his indigestion. He sighed, closed his eyes and started to drift when that yelp came back accompanied by soft efforts to breathe. _

_That wasn't right..._

_"Clark?"_

_"Oh sweet heaven...this hurts!"_

_He was out of the bed and running for the bathroom when Clark finally lost the battle. A loud cry echoed off the walls, pain clear in his voice as he tried to breathe. He ran a cloth under some cold water quickly, brought it back and placed it on his fiancé's sweat drenched head. Had he been sleeping that deeply? From the look of murder in his fiancé's eyes, he had. _

_"Why didn't you wake me?"_

_"Because...I thought...this wasn't...the reeeeaaalll AHHHH!"_

_He hadn't counted on this. THIS _**technically**_ wasn't supposed to be happening. _

_They'd been dating on and off for a little over a year now. Intimacy hadn't been a part of that, their jobs keeping them from seeing much of each other even though they worked in the same building half the time. However, that all changed when a certain last son decided to gather a little too much sun into his body in an effort to think. Bruce had confronted him earlier that morning, asking him to decide about them. Bruce knew how he felt and had agonized for weeks over making such a move, in fear that he would outright reject him and head back to the one he claimed to love._

_Things didn't quite pan out that way. Clark had come back from his little romp in space, warm and giddy and decidedly bold when he somehow busted into his quarters. Not even a syllable out of his mouth, and Bruce was pressed up against the wall fighting to keep what little sanity he had. He'd pushed back, surprised when Clark let him, and even more so when he blushed as his cape fell away. Something died on his lips, stolen again in a kiss that sent them spiraling into the bed and out of the world for however long they decided to stay that way._

_They'd stayed that way for a little over three hours, finding new ways of making each other scream. It was memorable...and quite informative on several things. One: once someone worthy of bedding a Kryptonian had done so, they alone were able to leave lasting marks on invincible skin. Bruce took great pleasure in seeing his handiwork resting so visibly on that small patch of skin beneath Clark's neck. It said so much, and so little at the same time. Two: although the man was gifted with powers beyond what he could understand, in bed Clark was like any other lover. Wanting more than he could take and nearly passing out from the pleasure. That needed to be seen twice before Bruce would believe it enough to do over and over again. _

_Then there was the third thing. That third thing that made him blink the first time. It sung to him the second time, and by the third time he couldn't choose. Of course being that a certain someone was a complete virgin—not himself—it shouldn't have taken Bruce like it did. It swallowed him whole, drew him into its depths and held him tighter than he'd ever been held. After that moment, it was kind of hard not to acknowledge it. It was also an explanation as to why on certain days Clark was a little testy. It also explained that he wasn't easy. In fact, Clark trusted no one more with this secret than the one he chose to sleep with. At that moment, he didn't really think about it but so much. It was there, it was a part of him, so...oh well, right?_

_Somehow Bruce should have seen this coming a long ways back. Not even a good three months after they'd started, Clark Kent came over to his house and said those fatal words that knocked him for a true loop._

_"Bruce...I'm pregnant."_

_It was a little hazy after that. _

_"Bruce! I'm going to kill you!"_

_Yeah, probably. He'd wanted to kill himself for not thinking along those lines of "protection" when he'd stolen his virginity, __**twice**__. He was barely thirty-six, at the top of his business game, and one of the most handsome eligible bachelors out there. Children? Now? Right when the mid-life crisis was supposed to hit? Well, everyone slips up once in a while. And who better to mess up with than the man of steel? It wasn't some random lady, or some deranged ex looking for her next score. It was Clark Kent, reporter extraordinaire; Superman the man of steel; and Kal-el, the last son of Krypton who was actually a full blown __**hermaphrodite**__._

_He managed to drag Clark out of the bed in between contractions. Clark had insisted, even though the bed could be bought again if they chose. He eased him over to the door to their bathroom and let him lean against the doorway. Clark willingly stayed, fingers pressed into the wall and leaving finger sized imprints in them. He took that moment to run the bath, one eye on Clark still trying to breathe through this process and the other on the water rising to the occasion. It couldn't rise fast enough if it wanted to, so Bruce busied himself in helping his fiancé strip. _

_It took a whole month to adjust to the fact that Clark wasn't lying. He'd seen the sonogram, the pregnancy test, and the small growth on that taut belly expand. Things like this should have been off the riktor scale and saved for science fiction __**(or fanfic writers ^-^),**__ yet it was here in his face and not going anywhere. The man's shyness about the whole thing drove Bruce up the wall. He'd never mention his condition unless it was necessary, and to make matters worse, Clark wouldn't sleep with him. At ALL. He was lucky if he'd get a kiss now and again and even then it wasn't much more than a quick smack. He'd withdrawn himself from this, fearful that all this was pity on Bruce's part because he'd knocked him up. Bruce only found that out when he'd found Clark crying after watching a documentary on single mothers._

_The record was straitened pretty quickly afterward, and the "L" word had come flying out without him realizing it. Love? Was it safe to say in a world like this? Like theirs? Their lives clashed and folded in so many ways it was hard to see himself without Clark. Trying to imagine that life of solitude he'd lived before this-no. NO. Man thoughts overruled the logic that damned him from the beginning. He had love. He had access to sex! He had someone to argue with and have make-up sex __**with**__! He didn't have to force himself to return phone-calls as a courtesy. He wanted to! It was an added bonus that Clark knew about his other life and supported him regardless of the situation. They'd both sworn to do all they could to protect what mattered most to them. Now, Clark was in that equation. And Clark realized it just as he did. _

_What was the end result now piqued his curiosity from the start. How'd it happen? Why did it happen? And where was _**it**_ coming out? He got a full blown course in Kryptonian Sex Ed and Physiology and couldn't believe half of it. It was a natural phenomenon that occurred in select houses born with a specific gene. That gene alone enabled them to be one or the other, or both sexes. Apparently someone like Clark was a prized possession for many races aside his own. It was one of the lone reasons people like Luthor wanted to dissect him. This was why he was never intimate with anyone aside himself, in fear of being discovered and chased down to be a section of Area 51. Knowing this made Bruce all the more determined to keep him safe, and to fix a certain business man's ass when he had a moment alone._

_"Bruce..."_

_He gently eased him into the waiting water, smiling when a crossed look of content and relief washed over his face. The warm water was supposed to help ease this. At least, that's what they were taught when they were overlooking methods of birth. A home birth was the safest method; private and concealed from the eyes of the dangerously curious. After looking into it, a water birth was something Clark seemed set on. He'd taken to this pregnancy like most expectant mothers and wanted everything planned out down to the very last detail. The nursery, the baby items, the classes they looked up—everything he could think of was researched, bought, and prepped for this little unexpected arrival. That meant telling the league, particularly those they trusted. The founding members were told first, and several others afterward. Even Tim, Dick, Barbara, and Alfred were let in on it and told what they should do in various situations. _

_However, some plans had to be readjusted. Tim was over with Dick at his place, and Barbara was probably knocked out somewhere in her apartment. Alfred had taken a short leave to tend to his ailing brother in England, which left them alone. Who knew where the other leaguers they told were at? He certainly didn't. They could have been anywhere in the world, too busy saving lives to give them a hand. That probably wasn't the best scenario they could have landed in but..._

_"How long has this been going on?"_

_"Since dinner," Clark gasped. The next one hit a little harder than the last, his abdomen rippling in protest to the constant abuse. Bruce glanced at his watch. It'd been seven minutes since the last one. "I thought...it was indigestion..."_

_"Just breathe, Clark...it'll pass soon..."_

_He was pretty well versed in how to do all this. Hell, he'd done it several times over the last year. But this was a little different. Soon happened and left Clark staring wildly down at himself. Bruce stared at him, unsure of what happened as Clark's face twisted into a sideways grin. "Um..."_

_"Your water broke. Right?"_

_"...yeah. Bruce?"_

_It was a little hazy after that._

_When he could focus again, he found himself staring up at a familiar green face. The back of his head hurt more than he cared for it to and the lightheaded feeling wasn't helping. He sat up against his better judgment and scrambled back to the tub where Clark was swearing up a small storm._

_"How long—"_

_"About an hour. You hit your head pretty hard."_

_Again familiar faces plagued him. Walking in with an ice compact for the back of his skull was none other than Wally West; the Flash without the red on. Seeing him as he was in civilian gear took him by surprise. Wally gingerly placed the pack on the knot he'd attained, choosing not to laugh at the wince on his face. "You knocked yourself out on that edge of the wall," he explained. "How are you feeling?"_

_"Like crap..."_

_"Don't feel too bad. J'onn is here to help. So am I...as least for your head."_

_Bruce didn't scowl. Instead he looked up and around and asked, "Where's John?"_

_"He's...sitting down. I think seeing fearless leader like this kind of...shocked him."_

_More like knocked the wind out of him he'd later find out. "You haven't told him?"_

_"...not yet."_

_Another string of curses came flying, this time a little faster than the prior one. It'd only been a minute. _

_"GET THIS THING OUT OF ME!" Clark screamed. "Oh GOD...I wanna push..."_

_"Bruce, I suggest you get up there and support his shoulders," J'onn said. "I believe it's time."_

_His world spun, but he fought it. He scrambled to his feet and sat on the edge, Clark gratefully leaning into his touch when he was close enough. No sooner had he relaxed, he tensed, gripped the sides of the tub and pushed._

* * *

><p><em>"Awwww! Look at him John...ten fingers, ten toes...he's absolutely perfect!"<em>

_John silently agreed with a smile wider than he'd ever given. Bruce beamed inwardly, the proud papa in him grinning reverently over what he'd helped to make. Clark was grinning for real, face flushed and full of pride for the squalling bundle of joy in his arms._

_It'd taken a little under an hour to deliver him. Their first child, a boy, had come silently into the world, eyes opening the moment he was in his mother's arms. Bright blue greeted them, warm and wet with his first sight. His Mother and Father looking down at him unbelieving that they had inadvertently created this small being. He fell asleep soon after, head resting soundly upon his mother's chest, his father gently stroking the jet black curls coating his small head. J'onn waited a few moments before taking the babe to have him checked out, weighed, and properly documented as being their child. While he was doing that, Bruce eased Clark out of the tub and sat him down on a hollowed out chair they'd bought a week prior. Clark leaned, wincing as his body began contracting. Just as Bruce placed a basin down, he grunted and the afterbirth fell._

_John had chosen that exact moment to come in and fell as well._

_Now, dry, dressed, and comfortably resting in their bed, Clark began to drift as exhaustion crept up on him. Their nameless little boy stayed in Bruce's arms, protected and warm for now and always. Clark smiled and let himself fall just as John inquired about what he hadn't before. _

_Bruce's cheeks glowed, but he told him, and had the stoic marine blinking at the end of his tale._

_"So that's where it came out..."_

* * *

><p>"Daaaad! Are you listening to me?"<p>

How could he not listen? Their little nameless boy had grown quite a bit over the years, loud spoken and direct when he wanted someone to pay attention. Much like now, as he was retelling the story of his amazing goal during his game today. "You were at the part where 52 had come in and tried to kick you instead of the ball, right?"

"Right! So he almost kicks me in my shin, and just before his foot connects, I twist and kick the ball with my left foot as hard as I could! It went zooming past the goalie and into the net! And then it fell through it!"

"Seems like someone kicked the ball too hard," Clark chuckled. "Lucio, you need to be a little more careful."

"I know Mom, but you should have seen it! Everyone was screaming and cheering because I scored! We lost, but it was still cool!"

Bruce patted his son's head with pride. "Good job. Now if only you'd put more effort into your school work-"

"Aw Dad! Come on, it was just one test!"

"One test too many. Don't forget, I will be checking your homework after nine so it'd better be done."

Lucio grumbled and stuffed a biscuit in his mouth. He turned his glare on his sister grinning lazily at him on his right. "Don't say a word Imogene!" he warned. "I don't want to hear about how easy that test was!"

"Well it was...but you could attribute your complete and utter failure to being half asleep..." she smirked. "I told you not to stay up."

"Coming from the one who sleeps the day away given the chance!"

"I do not! You're just that boring."

"Why you-!"

"Imogene, stop picking at your brother," Clark chided. Her next comment quickly died in her throat when Bruce looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Lucio, finish up so you can get started. Aiden, Nadia, stop switching and start eating before dessert is cancelled."

Twin heads stopped swapping each other's food and started eating as their mother instructed. Clark shook his head and went back to making sure their littlest one, Vaughn, didn't put his dinner anywhere else but in his mouth. Vaughn ate the next bite given to him, though his attention was on his mother's swollen stomach. Nearby, Alfred laughed at the lot of them. He was busy tending to dessert, which happened to be none other than his famous apple pie served with French vanilla bean ice-cream. Already the kids were eyeing it, the smell making dinner move a little faster off their plates. They were going to dog the whole thing, which only made Bruce a little happier that Alfred had made two pies instead of the usual one.

Bruce sat back and watched the commotion that was his family. Three members of it where missing at the moment, off in college or running their lives the way they saw fit. He might have missed them more had they decided to forget him, but they called, visited, and stayed longer when the kids pleaded hard enough.

The kids. Oh boy. Five kids with a sixth one on the way. He could hardly believe it even now, ten years from the moment it all started.

Lucio was their first born, a son who looked like his daddy in almost every way. He was boyishly handsome, young looking even at the tender age of ten. He'd inherited his father's dark locks, though they weren't cropped and neatly slicked back. Since he was about seven, he'd begged his mother to let him grow his hair out. Grow it had, long, thick, and flowing as black silk against his tanned skin. It was often tied back into a single braid, left to hang down his backside with his bangs hugging his face. His eyes, however, those were his mother's trait, as well as that cheeky smile he loved to flash when he was excited. Such a brilliant blue was unnatural, and it often brought attention where it wasn't wanted. Still, he held nothing but the truth in them, bold and piercing when he paid attention to anyone he came in contact with. It tended to get him into more trouble than he wanted, but in the same token, adults rarely lied to him.

His smart, athletic, well spoken son was supposed to be the only unseen one. He and Clark never spoke of having another, until that fateful day five months after Lucio was born.

Clark had come to him again with those words, and by then they had been married long enough for him to properly faint._ "Bruce...I'm pregnant, again."_

He'd learned back then that Clark was extremely easy to impregnate. A month after their first born had turned one, here came their second. A little girl.

Imogene.

_"What the heck am I going to do with a little girl?"_

_"You'll love her...and try not to cringe when she asks you to play dress up."_

Imogene took after her mother in looks. It was one of the reasons her name came to be. She was a lovely child, fair skinned with bright rosy cheeks when she was a little cherub. She hadn't changed much, though her red cheeks had gone and the sleepy smile stayed with her up until now. She was a thinker, a very smart thinker who had psychologists, scientists, and J'onn himself baffled at just how smart she was. Her genius was matched only by her laziness, which explained the dulled look of her teal colored eyes. When she was interested, however, her eyes would widen and take on their true green nature, bright and focused, a million and one thoughts passing through them when she put her mind to a problem. They'd only wished she'd put her mind to her hair at times. Her hair was long, thick, wavy, and that strange bluish black her mother was known for. It was also a jumbled mess tied into a ponytail she rarely did anything with.

"Imogene, you're hair is getting done tonight," Clark mentioned. "I'm not messing with it in the morning because you were too lazy to do it, understand?"`

Imogene's sleepy eyes widened to their full size. Her mother was the only one who could get her to pay attention. That and a good riddle. She wasn't interested in anything remotely girly, which was good...and bad. "Mom, I-"

"You're not getting out of it. Push it and I will take you clothes shopping a week early."

Her mother was also the best at getting her to do what she would not.

After Imogene was born, they waited a whole four years. It might have been a little longer had a certain plant lady not sprayed them with that damned pollen.

"Daddy, are you working tonight?"

"Yeah, are you working?"

He shook his head no and couldn't help but smile at those adorable twin faces. Their little all-nighter after that fight had Clark, once again, saying those words...with a slight twist.

_"Bruce...I'm pregnant...__**again**__."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah but..."_

_"But what? Clark?"_

_"I think...I'm having more than one."_

Aiden and Nadia came squalling into the world, a month earlier, tinier, and louder than their brother and sister. While Imogene and Lucio had been born under the water, Aiden and Nadia were born on the prior bedding they'd thrown out.

They were fraternal twins, yet they looked like each other in almost every aspect. Their bright gray eyes that shone innocently at anything they looked at often led them into curious situations no one could quite explain. They couldn't quite explain why their eyes stayed that color either, but he supposed it was natural. Fine spiked strands of black covered their heads; Aiden's short and Nadia's at her shoulders. Button noses kissed the center of their childishly chubby faces, adorable little angels that had everyone enraptured. Save their own mother and father.

_"Oh god, Bruce...they're cute..."_

_"Just because they're cute doesn't mean we'll fall for it. We've had two children to practice with. NO should come easy now."_

From the moment they'd come into the world, they'd tried their damnedest to confuse everyone. Normally it would have worked had one not been a boy and the other a girl. However, their little boy had the same issues as his mother. He was a full blown hermaphrodite. His male side was dominant over his female, but everything functioned. Clark had worried over it for a little while. How was he supposed to explain to his little boy that side of him? Bruce had worried as well, though for different reasons. Fatherly reasons that had him wanting to strangle any male looking at his son strangely. Despite their worries, they raised him as he acted. Like a little spitfire who loved running about getting into anything and everything he could get his hands on. His sister followed him wherever he went, sometimes getting them into deeper trouble. She was definitely the more curious of the two, and the first to make the next move when Aiden wasn't sure.

This was one of the reasons why a good portion of the house had to be repainted recently...

"Mama...gotta go potty~~!"

"I knew that second helping of juice would do that. Bruce—"

He was already out of his seat and taking their youngest son by the hand. Vaughn was running as best his little legs could carry him, pulling his daddy along for the ride. It took them a minute to find the closest bathroom, and a second for Bruce to find himself being dragged in with Vaughn.

"Wanna use the big potty!"

"You sure?"

"...pwease? Wanna trwy!"

That was Vaughn for you. Little, but determined to overcome.

Two years after the twins were born, he'd been ready for it when Clark came bearing that look. The look of annoyance at him for something he did or didn't do. _"Bruce-"_

_"I know. You're pregnant, again. Right?"_

He was, but that wasn't what he'd come in there to yell at him for. He'd forgotten to take out the trash in the bat cave and now they had raccoons.

Vaughn's appearance into the world was abrupt and unprepared for. An attempted break in within their own home was the cause, and being shot at only made things worse. Thankfully the kids had spent the night elsewhere.

The idiots were apprehended violently, tossed, and beaten until they lay still but breathing. His initial worry over Clark had caused him to unleash the other side of him without the mask. When he was sure they were down and not getting back up, Clark was already hunched over and staring horridly at the soaked floor.

Two months early, their little boy came to them, tiny, helpless, and barely breathing. They were able to get someone to transport them to the Watchtower and have someone look at their boy. J'onn came to their rescue, appalled but willing to do whatever it took. Once he was gone, Clark fainted and left Bruce a worrying mess.

The next time he saw his son, he was under a blue light in Gotham Mercy, hooked to a ventilator and other various instruments. He was locked away in his own little prison, fighting in a world that would have killed him unknowingly. The doctors who cared for him had been informed, and told directly by none other than himself to keep quiet about this. What Clark was wasn't uncommon, though the process was rare within human studies. Of those few cases that had occurred, each parent died of complications. One child survived.

Somehow, knowing that child had been a member of the league did not faze him.

It was a whole month before he'd recovered enough to be taken home. Clark came home a week prior to then, saddened but attentive to the other children. He wasn't allowed to move but so much so holding any of them was a bit of a chore. That pain and sadness faded the moment their little boy had been sent back with his father, still tiny but sleeping without added assistance to breathe. Clark forgot his wounds, picked up the smallest baby of them all, and cried for a solid hour.

"Daddee, all done!"

"You didn't fall in? Oh my, such a big boy!"

"I big boy!"

He scooped Vaughn up and put his pants back on. He walked him over to the sink where his tiny hands kept splashing the water in an attempt to wash them. Ever since he'd brought Vaughn home, Vaughn had been determined to do everything before he was ready. Sitting up, crawling, walking, eating solid food, even potty training! Of most things he tried, he usually got the hang of it quickly. Everything was treated and celebrated as a feat. Each time he did something good, he was met with praise. That only made him more determined to do anything he set out to do. His only contradiction in life was his looks against his attitude. He was a little version of Bruce—Clark was quick to point that out—right down to his obsidian eyes and his slightly spiked short crop of jet black hair. Yet his can-do-attitude was all Clark, which Bruce kindly put back in his face with a kiss.

"Daddee?"

"Hmm?"

"I grow big like you...wight?"

Someday, he'd be taller and stronger, and faster. Someday. But not today. Today he was their little boy giggling as his father hung him upside down.

"Imogene! I told you not to mess with my computer!"

"I just wanted to see what was in it!"

"I don't care! Come here!"

Imogene ran for her life, Lucio three steps behind and gaining quickly. Clark screamed at them not to put another hole in the wall. Aiden and Nadia ran past then, darting up the stairs to find something else to get into. Bruce turned Vaughn right-side up as Clark walked into view, closer to a waddle now that the days were getting closer. Vaughn's attention quickly darted back down to his swollen belly and again he asked, "Where da baby coming out?"

"Out of mommy's tummy sweetheart." Clark kissed the side of his head and poked his nose, getting a well earned giggle from his little boy. "You came out of mommy's tummy, too."

"I did?"

"Yeah! You were just a little tiny thing...but you sure got big!"

"Daddee said I big boy now! I used the big-boy potty!"

"You did? And you didn't fall in? Daddy's right, you are a big boy!"

Vaughn beamed and wriggled out of his father's embrace. He darted back in the direction of the kitchen, running a little faster than he had ever been. "I gonna go tell Alfwed!" he called. "Alfwed! Guess what!"

Alone, standing by the bathroom, with the sounds of the house being torn apart over their heads, Bruce placed an arm around Clark to kiss him soundly. Vaughn was supposed to be the last one, but like so many times before, things changed. Two months after Vaughn turned two, Clark came to him out this very bathroom, test in hand, and a pure scowl of rightness plastered on his face.

_"Bruce, I'm pregnant...__**AGAIN**__. I told you!"_

_"What? How?"_

_"You know how! I told you someone spiked the punch!"_

_"...I'm sorry?"_

_"Sorry? You're gonna be sorry if you do it again! No more, got it?"_

Bruce chuckled a bit and hugged him a little more. Oh well. Six was a nice even number.

* * *

><p>Reviews are welcome and oh so nice.<p>

Flames...well...you can just stuff it buddy. :)

More in a bit.


	2. Recalling the Night the Twins Came

**_AN:_ Before we get started, I'd like to say something.**

**People who take their time to read anything, and then bash on it because of their prejudicial views in life need their heads examined. I mean, I really wanted to curse the hell out of whoever the hell that was...but, hey. I've got other things to do.**

**Like post the next version of this story!**

**Flames are STILL not welcome, and my replies will not feature the fifteen curse words strung together every time I think about how messed up life can be.  
><strong>

**:)**

_Oh, and I so don't own anyone in here except the kids. _

* * *

><p><strong>Recalling the night Aiden and Nadia came:<strong>

"Aiden! Nadia! Get off the ceiling right this instant! I just had your father clean up there!"

Twin pouts surfaced on their cherubim faces, but their mother glared at them with his hands on his lower back. There was no getting out of staying up there a little longer to see if the mud they had would stick like the slime had. Sighing a bit, Aiden let himself drop to the floor first. Nadia followed, but fell short of landing on her feet. She tumbled and fell on her hands, burning them against the recently shampooed carpet now caked in dirt. Aiden rushed over to help her up, his hands coming out of his pockets to send mud flying in all directions clean. Their mother looked on in horror as mud dripped from their clothes, fell in clumps upon their carpet, and stuck to their hands and faces.

"Clark? What's going-oh my god! Aiden! Nadia!"

The twins winced. Their mother was scary enough when he was mad. Their father made them want to run and hide someplace. Both parents mad at them was cause for unspeakable punishment.

Usually…that meant…_bath time_.

"That's it! You two march straight into your bathroom. You're getting a bath and then you're in time out."

Time out? "But daddy—"

"No buts Aiden! I told you before not to bring mud in the house."

"But it's not mud!"

Clark felt his heart drop. "Then what is it?"

"Pudding!"

Bruce quickly scooped up his children before Clark could kill them. Well into the eighth month of his pregnancy, Clark had become a little aggressive when it came to cleanliness. Everything needed to be clean, sterile, and put completely in its place before he was satisfied enough to leave. That was rather difficult with children running about, even more so when they came in twos and liked to play in messy things. Chocolate, at the moment, was the worst thing anyone could show to Clark in forms that were not solid. He'd freaked out the last time the children had decided to make Chocolate milkshakes and nearly fainted at the mess. Chocolate powder was everywhere; on the floor, on the chairs, on the ceiling, and stuck in chunks on their clothing. It took a whole hour to get things back under control, and less time to get in there and clean it all before Alfred came back from shopping.

So, in essence, Chocolate was a no-no. Not if you wanted to live. Bruce quickly took their twins upstairs, hoping Dick was still around with the other kids.

"Dick! Dick!"

Dick poked his head out of Lucio's room. "Hmm? What's—uh-oh."

"Do me a favor." He shoved the twins into his son's arms, ripped his own sweatshirt off and leapt for the stairs before Dick could even consider saying no. "Bathe them and put them down for a nap!"

Lucio popped his head out, sighing to himself. His mother was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Don't worry, Bro," he said with about as much comfort a ten-year-old could muster, "It's not so bad."

Dick snorted.

Bruce took to the stairs three at a time and rushed back into the living room where Clark was three seconds from having heart failure. "Honey, let's just go back in the kitchen," he said quickly. He grabbed his hands, glad that he wasn't quite as strong then, and slowly eased him out of the sinful presence of chocolate staining newly painted white walls. He didn't dare think of what it would do to the carpet. "We'll go in the kitchen, sit down, and I'll come back in here—"

"Here? Bruce—"

"—to clean up. Okay? Come on...it'll be okay."

Clark didn't resist being pulled into the kitchen, but his gaze kept wandering back to the brown goo defiling his nice clean living room with every second passing. "My living room...my living room—"

"Will be fine. Now sit."

"But—"

"Clark, sit. You know stressing like this isn't good this far."

Clark finally relented. Though it had been a full three years since Vaughn came into this world, he'd been warned from the moment he'd first confirmed it that he needed to be careful. Putting stress on himself wasn't good for the baby, or for him with his diminished powers. Bruce reminded him of it every time he was close to having a panic attack. Right now, that living room was going to give him a heart attack.

His husband of ten years helped him sit down in a nearby chair. A gentle kiss was placed on the side of his throbbing head, dulling the ache but not the knowledge that the ICK was going to stain that carpet in about five minutes. Still, his husband gave a valiant effort in grabbing the cleaning supplies, grabbing his best friend, and the both of them daring to dart where there should have been no sign of chocolate grating into his white ceiling.

"He'll get it, Master Clark. I've taught him well in the ways of cleaning up impossible stains. After all...he did pass down that trait."

He couldn't help the amused snort that came out of him. Their children, all five, had indeed inherited at least half of their qualities. That whole making a mess thing had to have been on Bruce's side of the family. When they were messy, they were his little devil children, covered in gunk, dirt, and whatever they had decided to play in. Especially Imogene...

"I assure you Master Clark that Imogene is down for the count. Now, please...drink this and calm yourself. I don't think we're ready just yet for the little one's arrival."

Gratefully, he took the steaming cup of herbal tea from his aging hands, wishing desperately that they wouldn't grow any older than they had. He forgot his obsession of cleanliness and focused on the wise and tiring gaze of the one man who came before Bruce, before all else as far as they were concerned. He simply smiled that gentle knowing smile, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and said nothing.

Alfred.

When all of this started, Alfred was the one to convince Bruce to pursue it. If anything, he would have expected the older man to promptly talk him out of it, knowing their reputations and the lives they led. However, Bruce's happiness mattered more than his overprotective nature—that and the small fact that Bruce needed to settle with someone before he wound up an old bitter man. Alfred had been feeling his age then, thrilled and torn when Bruce finally decided to let Clark in his life. He'd been thirty when he took Bruce under his wing, and then, at the half centurion mark of fifty, his boy had finally decided to let love in where darkness had reigned for so long.

The English butler had supported their relationship from the start. He was quick to call Bruce a moron if he screwed up somewhere, and even quicker still to make sure Clark wasn't feeling left out. Being who Bruce was then, letting others in wasn't his greatest forte, which often led to misunderstandings, fights, and the occasional break. Most times Bruce wasn't the one calling for the break. Clark had, six out of seven times he could remember. Each time Alfred had sat back and scolded Bruce until he was trying to call Clark up to resolve things. Left in his own hands, both men doubted Bruce would have known what to do.

Eventually they got into their own rhythm of things, including sex. Nothing truly more intimate than making-out and groping had gone on between them, until that one day where Bruce had called him on it. He'd thought it was nervousness or a lack of interest, yet the truth when it stared down his throat was a bit more than he'd handled before. It led to an awkward moment once, but that quickly resolved itself when Bruce caught on. It really didn't matter what special features someone like Clark had within or without. He was still Clark, that loveable, simply complex human/alien who was a character all his own. Alfred later admitted to coaching Bruce about this, and Clark couldn't have been happier that he'd been around.

He'd really been happy that Alfred was around the night the twins decided to make an entrance.

* * *

><p><em>A late night seemed to keep everyone where they were at. Not that he wasn't used to it. Late nights such as this one often kept him up, waiting for the distant sounds of a car that traveled the roads when they were their darkest. He wouldn't close his eyes until it was safely back in its housing, or let sleep take him until the driver was in the house checking the perimeter twice to make sure that their little safe haven was secure. Once he was in their room and climbed into their bed, he'd always roll over and fall strait to sleep against his relieved yawn. He was just waiting now, though his waiting only seemed to make time a little slower.<em>

_"Mommy..."_

_It also kept their children restless, each rubbing their eyes of an hour's worth of sleep. "Mommy, where's daddy?"_

_He gently eased his little boy onto the couch and cradled him as well as his little girl, wide awake and alert for once. "Daddy will be home soon," he soothed. "He's taking care of some monsters, okay?"_

_"Like the boogie man?"_

_"Yeah, like the boogie man. You know how he likes to scare little kids like you."_

_His son snorted indignantly. "I'm not a little kid!" he protested. "I can stay up to nine! I'm a big kid!"_

_"And what are you doing up until nine? Huh, Lucio?"_

_Lucio pouted and sank against the large girth sitting heavily upon their mother. He sighed once and closed his eyes, though he would not fall asleep just then. "Waiting for daddy to come home," he admitted quietly. "I miss him, mommy...why does he have to fight the monsters anyway? Can't the poleese do it?"_

_"Sometimes the monsters are too strong for the police. So daddy goes to help them when he can. Sometimes it takes a while, but he comes back."_

_"But he wasn't here this morning...or yesterday~~ Mommy, is daddy okay?"_

_The kids were getting so big now, and so full of questions. It was hard to lie to them, harder still when they would ask the same questions and get the same answers. Imogene said nothing in kind, though her watering eyes were telling on her. He hugged her a little closer, never once minding the added warmth of her tears soaking his shirt. Lucio sniffled and fought his tears, but it was a losing battle. The moment he placed his hand on his head, Lucio lost it and wept silently against him._

_"I'm sure he's fine. He's just a little busy is all."_

_"I miss daddy~~!"_

_"I know...I know..."_

_"Mommy, can't we call him?" Imogene sniffled. "He'll pick up the phowne, right mommy?"_

_Clark was at a loss. He wanted to tell him it would be all right, that their daddy would call and say it was all okay, but he wasn't in any position to do that. He closed his eyes and hoped something would come along to ease this pain._

_"My word...what are you two still doing up? You're father is due back any moment," a voice called. "Heaven's, if you don't get to bed now, you'll ruin the surprise!"_

_Both heads looked up from where they lay, eyes resting on the elderly figure that was grandpa in their eyes. Lucio wiped his tears away stubbornly. "What su-prise?" he sniffled. "Daddy's fighting the monsters..."_

_"He was, but he had to pick something up for you and your sister for being so good. Oh, I do hope you'll fall asleep soon...because I would hate for the surprise to be spoiled now..."_

_Lucio wiped the rest of his tears away and climbed off of the couch. Imogene followed a little slower, but she and her brother were soon running to take their grandfather's hands so he could lead them off to bed. At nearly four in the morning, their sleepiness soon got the better of them. Alfred scooped Imogene up and carried her to bed, with Lucio hanging on to his free hand yawning._

_Clark watched them leave, free to wince now that he was alone. While his older children were missing their daddy something fierce, their unborn babies were making it quite known that they wanted to come out to meet their daddy. Clark hissed and rode out the ripple of pain alongside the underscore of his massive belly stretched to its limits. _

_"Still bad?"_

_"Yes," he breathed, relieved that it was easing up. He tipped his head backward and breathed a little deeper than he had, glad his children weren't here to see this. "It's too early for this..."_

_"Nonsense. You've made it this far, so those babies are just about done."_

_He laughed and settled on the soft pillow tucked behind his back. He had no idea of how close he actually was. "Still no word?"_

_"None...not even Master Dick, or Master Tim know where he's at. I'm getting a bit worried...it's been two days..."_

_"I would ask J'onn, but...they're all busy dealing with that earthquake. Why is it always...an earthquake?"_

_"Master Clark?"_

_Clark inhaled as much as he could nearly gasping as he came up off of the couch hurriedly. He supported himself as best he could, balancing himself out and quickly waddling to the kitchen. There he leaned over on the kitchen counter, groaning deeply as everything sought to hasten itself up with a pop. Alfred said nothing, though his shock was a bit overwhelming under his concern. Clark continued to breath, surprised and horrified that things were moving this quickly._

_"Alfred—"_

_"Place your mind at ease, Master Clark. We will get through this with or without my idiot son."_

_At that point, Clark laughed and sobbed. Yes, Bruce was an idiot for taking on a crime syndicate this late in the game, but he was his idiot, who needed to be here for these twins he helped plant! He was all for sinking to the kitchen floor, yet the steady reassuring grip on his shoulders would not let him. Alfred stayed at his side until the wee hours of dawn, when that car he'd been looking for finally decided to show up._

* * *

><p>"Bruce, what are you doing?"<p>

Bruce looked down from where he was planted on the ceiling to face his adopted sons looking straight up at him. The green light around him kept him where he was with a bottle of cleaning fluid that would lift the embedded chocolate off of the paint without peeling it off. John was below him, holding him up with his ring effortlessly, though his attention quickly wandered to the boys and the little ones racing down the stairs after his own child. Bruce went back to his task of scrubbing that ceiling clean, more concerned with getting this out than worrying about their children destroying something else. Clark was hard to please these days, and pleasing him meant a peaceful smoke free house, semi-quiet children, and an evening where he wasn't searching for some unspoken concoction the pregnant man was craving to pacify him. Whatever broke would get cleaned up in time, as long as this damned brown would hurry up and vanish!

"Pops?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, huh Dick? Tim?" he called tilting his head back. "I'm scrubbing the ceiling, **again**. Okay?"

"That wouldn't have something to do with a certain set of twins covered in pudding, would it?"

"Why do you think I gave them to you? Clark would have scrubbed them to death, and then killed me for letting them get near dessert!"

"Dessert?"

Bruce smacked his head and went back to scrubbing. "Clark, forget I said that, okay?" he called. "I'm cleaning it up, I swear!"

"I know honey, and I appreciate it, but what were you thinking? Chocolate pudding for dessert?"

"Oh for the love of—Look, I'm sorry! It won't happen again, okay?"

Bruce's answer was a cry that had him off of the ceiling and on his feet. John caught him before he could actually hit the floor, practically throwing him at the same time he leapt when Clark's unmistakable gasp had them running.

* * *

><p><em>"Alfred...please say I can!" he wailed. "Please!"<em>

_"In a moment...this isn't something I was expecting. So for now, breathe..."_

_Clark did as he was told, breathing as best he could from where he lay. The kitchen floor had been appealing, but the end result was him winding up back in bed writhing in pain. He'd tried everything to alleviate the pain; stretching, breathing, walking, curling up into a ball...and nothing quite prepared him for the unmistakable urge to bear down when seven had rolled around. It had shaken him, and tore him in half the longer he waited for him to find his way up the stairs. He could hear him in the house, though he was still below, unaware that things had taken a turn in the wrong direction when he couldn't quite hold on any longer._

_"Alfred!"_

_"All right Son...just breathe...and gently push..."_

_He'd given in to his body's desires, letting it take over with Alfred steering the wheel. He could feel one of them slipping through, but the pain was excruciating compared to the birth of his other children. He didn't quite understand why until Alfred instructed him to stop when something emerged. He ran and grabbed sterile towels and gloves, hastily placing them where they needed to be when he came back. Clark glanced down and nearly lost it._

_"Oh my god..."_

_"Easy...easy..."_

_"Bruce...BRUCE!"_

_As if some weird stage direction had finally pierced the one who was supposed to follow, Bruce walked into the room, a towel over his head and fresh clothing from the lower chambers that were the bat-cave. Clark's incredulous laugh had him jerking the towel off of his head and falling away in shock as the first of their twins was eased into the world...butt first._

_"Shit, Clark!"_

_"Bruce! Where the hell have you been?" Clark half screamed half sobbed. He reached out for him, wanting nothing more than to strangle him and hug him and smack him right before he kissed him. Bruce knew he was in for it, but the sudden gush of fluid soaking the bed had their attentions focused on their other unborn child. Clark cursed, arching back into Bruce's embrace as Alfred quickly cleaned off their squalling bundle of joy. He cleared his throat, nose, and wiped his eyes of fluid, swaddled him and set him in a nearby basinet just as something snapped in half._

_Alfred looked back and tried his best not to laugh._

_Clark lay breathing with his eyes closed, resting in Bruce's embracing comfort. Bruce was caught between staring in awe of the little babe squealing irritably at their feet, the swaddled child in the basinet, and the broken piece of their headboard sitting uselessly in Clark's hands._

_It was only then did their appointed Martian doctor show up, and that they remembered that their appointment was for today._

_"Bruce?"_

_"Yes, dear?"_

_"Your children missed you...and you owe them a surprise..."_

_He could do that. It was the least he owed them. They were going to be mad anyhow._

* * *

><p>"Clark!"<p>

Clark looked like he was ready to kill. Bruce quickly discovered why and promptly sought to rectify the issue of brown clumping on their recently waxed kitchen floor. Every last one of their children was covered in mud, or clay it appeared when he remembered the school project Lucio had been doing with Dick's help. However the case, he could smell why Clark was ready to throttle their children, and he promptly smacked his head.

"Kids, now is not a good time," he urged, quickly gathering them into a group. He urged the lot of them out of the kitchen, ushering them up to their room with the promise of snack time later. It was Thursday, which meant that the snack of choice was always Oreo's and powdered chocolate milk. If the powder wasn't enough of a mess, the usual art work they did was tracked through the house in their haste to find their treats for the day. This Thursday, Lucio was covered in brown clay. Imogene was covered in brown paint. Vaughn was covered in mud, and sadly so was the puppy wagging its little black muddy tail. Thursday was also the day the gardener came over and let Vaughn help him in whatever ways a three year old could help.

So now, there was paint, clay, crumbs, puppy slobber, water, milk, and mud in the house...

"BRUCE!"

And he was stuck cleaning every bit of it up.

Aside him, Alfred chuckled and walked off to get the kids in the bath. It would be a little while before Bruce was done apologizing.

* * *

><p><em>"Honey..."<em>

_"Don't you Honey me! You were gone for two days! TWO DAYS!"_

_"I know—"_

_"NO you don't know! I tried calling you! Alfred tried calling you! What the hell was so important that you can't let us know that you're all right?"_

_Bruce sighed and held up the little pieces that used to be his communicator. Clark's anger fumbled, confusion flickering to complete amazement at the destruction of the next item he pulled out of the junk drawer. The very, very, very expensive I-phone he'd gotten as a gift was now in nearly twenty different pieces. The cause of such mutilation was still in the depths of it, glaring angrily at the light above them when he finally removed it. As if a solution for removing the glue, the rest of it fell away in his hands, useless._

_"People like to shoot at me," he said quietly. "They also like to make sure I don't have a way back."_

_"Bruce..."_

_"Using a pay-phone was pointless, since I had no money. Technically, I was supposed to be homeless, with no family. Making phone calls would have tipped them off. Someone was always watching me."_

_"...I-"_

_"No. I should have done something to let you know I was fine. I didn't mean to worry you or the kids...and a certainly didn't mean to nearly miss the twins-"_

_He didn't have a chance to finish. One of the twins squalled in disapproval, their breakfast gone and their belly not yet full. Clark gently eased the bottle from his little girl's mouth, laughing when she turned her face into his chest and rubbed. Bruce quietly handed him the second bottle. He was used to this routine of one bottle then two, for their eldest had done it as well as their second. One bottle simply was just not enough for their growing frames, tiny but making an effort to get bigger much quicker. Yet now, rather than having at least ten bottles, there would be twenty...or more._

_Their little boy, born a whole forty seconds before his sister, snorted against him as he slumbered. He held him a little closer, saddened as well as angry at himself for nearly missing it. Had Alfred not been here..._

_"Would you care for something to eat, Master Bruce?"_

_Bruce shook his head. "Your idiot son deserves nothing...not even you."_

_Alfred smiled that of a comforting man, placing his slightly wrinkled hands upon Bruce's shoulders. "If not for my idiot son, where would we be? Had I not meddled and became what you needed, where would you be? My idiot son is like his idiot father...honest, courageous, and willing to do what most will not to make this place safer for his family, and for those who are mere strangers in a sea of countenances. You are only one man, my boy. You will miss certain things, yes, but you are still here to watch them grow. Take comfort in that much, if little else soothes."_

_Bruce remained silent under his words when the spell was shattered by the screaming of his other two children. He quickly placed his child in his adoptive father's hands, ran out of the room and clocked the first invisible monster he was somehow able to see. His children giggled and pointed to the next, laughing harder when he missed, tripped and fell on his butt._

_It was okay though. Lucio and Imogene smothered him to death for his failure. He couldn't have been a happier man._

* * *

><p>The kids were clean, the house was spotless, dinner had been cooked and cleaned up, and dessert was not chocolate related. Strawberry Mousse was just as good as chocolate pudding, and either way the kids got their sugar. After running around playing like kids their age do, it was of no surprise to see them passed out in various spots of the living room.<p>

Lucio lay half sprawled out on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge with his game still blipping in his grasp. His foot was just shy of kicking Imogene in the head, curled up like a fat kitten full of milk on a winter morning. She wouldn't have moved for the life of her. Not even when Vaughn had crawled up into the space between her and couch and dropped off into slumber-land. Aiden and Nadia would have completed the picture had they not been sent to their rooms without dessert. That whole pudding thing had driven Clark to the edge. As a result, he had to become the punisher and set the punishment according to the crime. Since dessert was planted on the ceiling, Dessert was up in the air and gone for the next week. Of course they pouted. Nadia even shed a few tears. Aiden refused to cry, stomping up the stairs and flying into his room to find a bit of privacy to do that. As soon as he was gone, Nadia was gone, and the crying hour came and went.

Having peeked in on their red-cheeked faces, he knew they were exhausted from crying so much. They lay sleeping in their separate beds, Asleep and unaware of all else.

"Bruce?"

He stopped his mental check of where each child was and spun to spy Clark with a nice helping of left over Strawberry Mousse in hand. "Hm?"

"Thank you..."

He wanted to say it was nothing, but it wasn't. He'd successfully managed to reign in the evil of chocolate, clean up all traces of brown, and resolved the matter of irritability within his heavily pregnant husband. Now if that wasn't a feat to be proud of, he couldn't quite place another event that would top this...aside turning his husband into a mumbling mess of well sated flesh...

"Sweetheart?"

"Hm? Oh, never mind..." Bruce lied. "It's just me...daydreaming."

"Right...well Mr. Daydreamer, I suggest you help me up to bed if you want a reward..."

"What about—"

"What about it?"

Hey, he wasn't one to argue. Dessert in hand, Clark in the other, Bruce soon had both locked in the depths of his room.

Alfred, unseen from where he stood in the shadows of the hallway, snorted. At least they could wash **those** sheets out later.

* * *

><p><strong>For the record, I don't recommend anyone cursing anyone out in an email.<strong>

**Usually that's done better in person, but since we're all strangers on the internet and I'd rather delete the problem than confront it, everything's okely dokely. :)**


	3. Lucio and Imogene Like to Fight

Baaaaaaaaaaack! And updating this little baby.

Once again, same warnings. You can find them in the first chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucio and Imogene like to fight<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>8:20 a.m.:<strong>__ Pawns meet centerboard_

7:00 a.m.: Wake Imogene up for 9:00 a.m. Violin Practice

_**Check...**_

7:15 a.m.: Bath Vaughn if he avoided his bath again

_**Double Check...**_

7:45 a.m.: Wake Imogene up again and toss her in the bathroom

_**Did that...**_

7:50 a.m.: If the twins aren't up yet, wake them. If they are, toss them in the bathroom

_**Yeah...that was **_**fun**_**. Next?**_

8:15 a.m.: Get everyone to the breakfast table.

8:15? He double checked the time and mentally cursed when he realized just what time it was. He spun and heard it before he could stall it.

_**Here we go...**_

"IMOGENE! I told you about taking my crap apart!"

And thus, the beginning of another lovely Saturday morning. Bruce groaned inwardly and got up to stop the madness before his sleeping husband was awakened by none other than the fighting twosome known as Imogene and Lucio.

Every Saturday around these exact moments, Lucio would bellow something about Imogene and her antics. Imogene would streak out of his immediate line of fire, darting straight into the safe zone of their mother and Bruce's warning glare when Lucio came in with his fists raised. He wanted nothing more than to smack his sister into the floor tiling (maybe further). However, Clark would never let him get that far. Lucio would get within ten feet of Imogene and quickly find himself hoisted up to eye level, scolded for even entertaining the thought of harming his sister. Imogene would taunt him behind their mother's backside, pulling every face she could think of in a span of seventeen seconds. Not a second longer. Clark would place Lucio down and switch his immediate frustration on Imogene and her troublesome curiosity, though nothing more than a warning would be issued. Imogene would walk off with nothing more than a light slap, and Lucio would be stuck with his broken item until Bruce would fix that item when he wasn't busy.

They didn't hit their children. Clark was adamant about never laying a single finger upon their darling children. They were never punished that way, not even when the thought of strangling them for incredibly stupid acts fell in their hands. Yet now, when Bruce happened to see Imogene run into the kitchen, Lucio stalked right in behind her with his face redder than it had ever been. He could see the will of unshed tears keeping themselves where they were supposed to stay, but his son's voice betrayed him when he held up the broken item in question. Bruce blinked and could swear to hearing Alfred gasping in the living room where the twins and Vaughn happened to be.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Lucio smacked the remnants of that valuable piece of machinery on the table and stalked off.

Bruce glared at it, and turned on Imogene hiding as best she could behind the island counter faster than the thoughts could form the words screaming from his mouth. "You took apart a one of a kind prototype machine! Are you out of your MIND?" Her sleepy eyes snapped open rather quickly, not used to seeing this angry side of her father coming to the surface. He neatly folded his fists at his sides, trembling at the sight of that useless machine that had been an investment he could not afford to replace. The prototype microchip was missing, and several of the main parts were in shambles. She didn't just take it apart...she dissected it and left the remains out in the open!

"It was just a game console..." she said weakly.

He couldn't take it another moment. "Imogene...Go to your room."

"But—"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!"

She was out of the kitchen faster than he could blink. Bruce sighed, grabbed the sides of his head, and desperately hoped he could place this thing back together before his son's friend's father could come calling for the loan.

"Of all the people to get this from, it had to be Luthor..."

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:00 a.m.:<strong>_ _Pawns attack the Dark Knight_

Well, the pieces weren't too bad off. Thankfully Bruce had some of the pieces he needed to repair it down in his "basement". He'd managed to get the major parts of it placed together before he had to dart out the house with the troublemaker that had caused him the unnecessary stress.

Imogene sat behind him in the car, strapped into her seat firmly and silent. Not silent as in sleeping, but silent as in thinking. Brooding maybe. About five minutes before she had been shoveled into the car, he'd stalked up to her room and promptly grounded her without the speech. There was no, "What were you thinking?" or, "Are you aware of what you've done?" to spout out this time. Nope. She was grounded for three weeks, and as her punishment, she wasn't allowed her freedom. To most kids, that meant phone talking, texting, and things kids like that do. For Imogene, that meant she wasn't allowed her naps, her brain teasers, or anything remotely related to stimulating her mind. That included the Health Discovery Channel and anything else she liked to browse about on the television. It also meant that today was her last lesson for the duration, which was fine with him. He'd find her something to do. He always did.

"WAHHHH!"

His foot slammed on the breaks and jerked the car so hard, it bounced. Bruce spun around in his seat, thinking the worst. Had something hit them? Was some freak outside of their car? He looked about and so nothing of the sort. Everything was fine. The cars were honking at him from behind, traffic was still flowing, and the skies were still their normal pale blue. So why was it that when he turned to glare at Imogene for screaming like that, he felt like a complete ass?

"Daddy! My Violin—"

—Was in splinters. The casing was in perfect condition. There wasn't even a blemish of mishandling. Yet the innards were actual splinters, broken pieces of a moderate instrument that was meant for intermediate players. It was perhaps a little over a thousand dollars and replaceable most certainly...but that wasn't the point.

"M-mommy bought it...for my birthdaaaaayy!"

Bruce sighed and banged his head against the wheel lightly. Imogene sat directly behind him wailing her eyes out over the very first thing Clark had purchased for her upon her first recital. That day was none other than her birthday, and at six, getting something like this was extravagant. Imogene treasured that thing more than she treasured her own mind, and for it to be sitting like that...

He placed his foot on the gas and sped past the townhouse he was supposed to have been at three minutes ago.

That lesson looked like it wasn't going to quite happen.

* * *

><p><strong>10:07 a.m.:<strong>_ Dark Knight threatens with the Queen_

"And what do tiger's like to do?"

"Hide in the forests!"

"Can you see me? Can you see me in my forest?"

Vaughn leaned over the book in his father's hands and tapped at the eyes gleaming playfully in the striped forests. He'd guessed right...for the third time in a row. As always Bruce congratulated his son with a firm squeeze and a tickle, turned the page and read out the next few lines.

He'd only gotten to "Snake" when the cries of Lucio had him leaping out of his seat.

After speeding away from the unplanned cancellation of a Violin lesson, Bruce sped to the nearest music shop and custom ordered another Violin for Imogene. Not that she deserved it for this morning, but she didn't deserve the destruction of at cherished memory for her innate troublesome hands. After calming her enough to get the specifics, he managed to place the order and get it rushed for delivery within the next week. Something of that caliber had cost him a nice little chunk of change, and he'd made sure that 30 percent of it had been stipend from Lucio's weekly income. His allowance.

No doubt he'd been grounded, but no longer than Imogene had. He didn't get the speech either. It was a waste of air and Lucio had known it was coming the moment he was in his room. Lucio shrugged and planted himself back on his bed, a book in hand and mouth firmly set in a frown. He was still upset about this morning...and seeing Imogene red-cheeked and crying didn't settle his mood.

Obviously seeing Lucio being punished didn't settle his daughter's mood either.

Scooping up Vaughn, the book, and their morning snack of trail-mix, he ran for the sounds of destruction plaguing the house. A shove and a grunt: the wall was cracked. Another shove, and this time an ominous "CRACK": there was a new** hole** in another wall. The sounds of his oldest children fighting were long and familiar to his ears, as well as the creaking house taking the brunt of it. He was sure if the house could actually have a say in all this, it would slam the both of them into the ground and stomp them for every hole. Their mother was already close to that point. Seeing another hole would take Clark past that point, and all bets would have been off.

Bruce mentally made a note to find the wall plaster before his husband could see the latest damage.

"You broke it! I can't believe you broke it!" Lucio was screaming at the top of his lungs. His little ten-year-old body went flying past the top of the stairs, slammed into the ends of the carpet five feet from where Imogene stood crushing the metal of a memento that had been once in a lifetime. He had to hand it to the girl. She knew how to get him where it hurt.

"That's for messing up my violin!" she spat.

"That was dad's you idiot! He's gonna kill me!"

"Serves you right!"

Imogene's snarl quickly turned into a gaping gasp for air the moment Lucio stood up. In his hands was none other than the very first piece of her journey into her genius, wrapped neatly in preserving diamond casing and stamped with the certificate certifying her as a child genius.

It was shards in seconds.

"YOU...BASTARD!"

"Not so smart of you to grab my cards and burn them, huh?"

Not his memorabilia baseball cards...

"You ruined my entire gaming set!"

Oh god...that piece set him back 20,000!

"I wouldn't have done it had you left my consoles alone!"

Bruce was going to have heart failure. His left arm as numbing up nicely despite Vaughn's weight. Imogene opened her mouth to say something else, but he quickly put an end to it and their little spat when Bruce roared, "IF YOU TWO DON'T STOP THIS SHIT NOW, I WILL WAKE YOUR MOTHER!" They were so startled by the sacrilege in that threat that Imogene and Lucio tripped up and fell. Wake their mother? This early on a Saturday?

"Dad—"

"Don't DAD me, Lucio. I want you BOTH IN YOUR ROOMS! Don't you **dare** let me see either one of your faces before I get to your rooms!"

"Daddy he—"

Imogene shut her mouth the moment his finger had come forcefully jabbing at her existence. "Imogene, shut it. I'm not in the mood for your mind games today. Now do as I say before I **really** lose it..."

Again, they made good on his threat. They were gone and in their rooms, slamming their doors simultaneously. He found himself sighing, **again**.

"Da?"

"Hmm? Yeah Vaughn?"

"I no tell mommy...you said a bad word...okay?"

At least one of his children loved him enough to keep him sane. He offered Vaughn the bag of trail-mix and took his youngest son and himself back downstairs.

They could sit up here and stew a little while.

* * *

><p><strong>1:05 p.m.:<strong> _Pawns take out the Dark Knight_

Saturday afternoons tended to drag once noon came and hindered time's normal functions. After the cartoons were over, the books read, snack time as well as lunch had come and gone, the kids had no problem occupying their eyes with sleep. He was grateful for that much, and smiled down at his youngest boy slipping off into la-la land. The twins had long since tuckered themselves out, having found a nice little adventure in a basinet of unfolded laundry. He'd found Princess Nadia curled up in a ball of pink fluff, with her little head of hair clipped up with all her fancy barrettes. King Aiden was knocked out by the dryer, caught up in his clouds of blue and white. The symbol of his heritage rested soundly beneath his paper crowned head, never minding the drool seeping into it. It was so painfully adorable that he had to take a picture of it. Clark would have killed him if he hadn't.

It didn't matter where they napped. As long as they were down, it was okay. So, with the twins curled up on the couch and Vaughn sleeping soundly on his lap, he was not about to get up and disturb the peace.

"DAAAAAAAD!"

Bruce jerked his head up harder than he had his car this morning. Footsteps were fast approaching. Vaughn was squirming in his lap. Not a good combination.

"Dad! I—"

"First of all, STOP screaming," he warned. Lucio quickly shut his mouth. "Secondly, why are you OUT of your room?"

One sheet of paper was all he needed to see. He held the side of his head and willed the oncoming headache to go away.

"You promised..."

"So I did. Give it."

Lucio dutifully handed the paper over alongside a pen he happened to have. Bruce sighed to himself and skimmed over the details. Why Clark ever decided that being a part of the PTA would be a good idea was beyond his comprehension. Those harpies were always looking for a handout, a donation, or a place to host their little meetings. Often or not, they would try to place their hands in his home for one reason or another...well, one in particular anyhow.

"Is that witch going to be coming along?"

Lucio scrunched up his nose in clear disgust. "Ms. Winchester? Dad, she is the head of the PTA..."

"I know...what all am I doing anyhow?"

"You promised to help run the snack stand with mom."

So that meant providing and bringing food that wouldn't make the kids gag and the parents dread the oncoming sugar high. Fair enough. "Huh. All right then."

He signed the paper, slightly aware of another set of footsteps running down those stairs. No sooner had he signed the papers did Imogene show up with papers of her own. "Dad, I—" She stopped mid-sentence to spy Lucio grabbing his forms back from their father with a smile on his face. She frowned. Bruce glanced at her and could see the wrong wheels turning in that calculating head.

"You forgot about my trip, didn't you?"

The question was directed at him, surprisingly. "Excuse me?"

"You forgot! That's why you signed his papers!"

"He promised he would!" Lucio snapped. "Dad doesn't go back on his promises!"

"What did he promise you?"

"Not that you care, but he promised he would help with the school fair with mom!"

"Well Dad promised he would come with me on my trip with mom!"

At that point, Bruce shushed them both with hands planted on both of their mouths. He glared at the both of them, willing them both into silence with no more than a look. "Imogene, your trip in on the 5th, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Lucio, the fair is on the 4th, correct?"

"Dad, it's all weekend...it's part of a fund raiser to help get us new supplies for other schools."

_**All weekend? **_"I thought—"

"You thought wrong!" Imogene snapped. She quickly turned her sights on her brother and lunged before Bruce could stop her. "This is your entire fault!"

Ready and waiting for it, Lucio tugged at her hands and threw her weight to the right of him. Bruce watched in horror as she flew over the table and landed on the sleeping bundle that were the twins. Without much regard for where she landed, she scrambled back up and threw the first thing she grabbed. The foot long plastic Spiderman Vaughn had been playing with before went sailing though the air, and smacked Bruce right in the head.

Everything was a bit fuzzy after that...

* * *

><p><strong>2:35p.m.:<strong> _Queen arrives_

"Bruce? Bruce...come on, wake up..."

Darkness faded from his line of sight and was replaced by a fuzzy image of a familiar face looking over him worriedly. He blinked, wondering just why he was getting that look. Had something happened? Was he knocked out during a fight? Trying to recall who all he was facing in the darkness that was Gotham; he focused his attention on the sharp pain on the left side of his head, tapered by the cold compress pressed against it. He must have gotten nailed pretty hard. He wasn't seeing the world through the white vinyl of his mask. Where was his mask anyhow?

"Honey..."

"Mmm?"

"Bruce, focus...how many fingers am I holding up?"

He blinked again and counted three...and three more little ones over his shoulder. "Mmm...You're holding three...and...Vaughn can't decide," he murmured. "Mmm...can I go back to sleep?"

"You've been out for an hour and a half..."

Was he serious? The look on Clark's face told him YES. The longer he sat there looking up at the ceiling, the more the recollection of Spiderman flying right into the broad side of his skull replayed itself. Once he was sure that it wasn't the actual Spiderman who'd done it, he groaned and closed his eyes.

"She's got a wicked throw, I'll give her that much."

"Bruce...what happened today?"

"Our kids are **evil**. _Why_?"

"Well...Aiden's got a bruise on his face, Nadia was crying because she got stepped on, Vaughn won't let go of me, and...Lucio's got a lump on his head the size of a golf ball."

"...and Imogene?"

"Grounded for three months. Lucio's grounded for one. They're in their rooms locked away for the rest of the day."

Sent to bed without supper. _**Nice.**_ "Sorry..."

A light kiss on the side of his non-achy head gave him the reassurance that he was not in hot water for once. He relaxed and drifted a bit, wishing to God that their next child would be nothing like the first two.

He didn't think his head could take much more of this.

* * *

><p><strong>5:46 p.m.:<strong> _Strategy of the White Queen and Dark Knight_

"Bruce, save some carrots for the salad..."

He popped another slice in his mouth and stuck his tongue out at his husband. "I can't help it if I'm hungry," he murmured. "I missed my snack..."

"Your snack didn't miss you. You eat more than I do!"

"I do not! Besides...it's not like I won't burn it off chasing A through F from here until eighty-four."

"Eighty-four?"

"By then Alfred would have given up and I would be shipping them to the far corners of the earth."

He smiled a bit as Clark smacked him lightly with the cloth in his hand. Their evening banter always ended like that, or with him kissing the side of Clark's smeared cheek. Bruce did so, taking a moment to wipe a bit of flour off of his nose. "Do you feel better?"

"I should be asking you that," Clark murmured placing a hand on his tender scalp. "She got you pretty good."

"I'm okay."

"Bruce...why do they keep fighting like that? They're family...they shouldn't be at each other's throats like this!"

"I know this, and you know this. But they're kids...they're going to fight regardless of what I do or say."

"Don't you mean we?"

Bruce shook his head, sighing lightly. "No. **Me**. I mean, why can't they behave whenever I'm in charge? I think we attain more holes in the wall than ever when it's just me..."

"Oh, Bruce..."

"...maybe because I'm not home enough?"

"You are home enough," Clark reassured. "They don't appreciate just how much you've gone through to get them everything they so readily destroy..."

"It's nothing—"

"It's not nothing! You make sure they get almost anything and everything they want, and more so when it's impossible to get it! Who else would catch a cold standing outside that store all night for a game their little girl wanted? Who else would skip a vital meeting to be at his little boy's game in the RAIN? Who else," Clark whispered lovingly placing their heads together, "would stay up with them when I was too sick to get out of bed?"

Scary times; scary experiences. Yet it was those frightening moments that he managed to push through that made his smiling children's faces worth the pain and trauma of destroyed money. He smiled and allowed Clark to pop another carrot slice into his mouth with a kiss upon his grinning cheeks. "You are the best father I know...and nothing can change that."

The soft scuffle of two pairs of feet brought them out of their little reverie. They turned in time to see the tail ends of Lucio's hair headed to the left, and Imogene's robe fluttering off to the right. They waited until the inevitable resound of closing doors reached their ears to promptly chuckle against one another.

"You knew they were down here, didn't you?" Clark chuckled.

"Of course. I could hear them bickering. I'll get dinner on the table. You go get the monsters."

* * *

><p><strong>8:37 p.m.:<strong> _Dark Knight takes pawns_

One by one the lights were extinguished by Alfred making his nightly rounds. While he went about tidying up what was left from the day's adventure, one Bruce Wayne knelt at the wall upon the second story of the house. Plaster sitting idly at his side and a bucket trowel in hand; he kept himself occupied with the hole in the wall Lucio had made. It was probably the fifth one this month, and a close call to the largest one he'd made...with his head anyhow. Honestly, how two children managed to do more damage to the house in a month's time was perplexing. If left alone, the house would resemble a hunk of Swiss on a rich platter!

"Swiss cheese has nothing on us," he murmured tapering the edges of the plaster. "Swiss has less holes than us..."

"Swiss is also edible," he heard Clark mention. He looked up and received a grateful hand upon his capped head, which was more than enough. He smiled a bit as his husband leaned over and wiped a smudge of plaster from his cheek. "Swiss also isn't this messy, or this much work."

"Hn. Everyone's sleeping?"

"Vaughn's been out since seven. The twins just fell asleep."

"And the groundlings?"

"Quiet...but not sleeping. Neither is this one," he sighed placing his hands on the little Wayne still baking. "I guess sleeping in made him restless."

Which meant that neither one of them would find much sleep tonight. Ah well. Good thing he'd taken the next four weeks off. With the way things tended to work around here, every time he was unconscious, away, or occupied, his children wanted to make their presence known. He figured it was better to be near the house waiting then to be away from it and getting screamed at.

"Okay...I've had enough of this," he said sitting back. He dropped his tools back into the bucket, closed the plaster up, and lifted himself off of the floor. Without missing a beat, Bruce grabbed his husband and marched down the hallway where their bed was screaming for them to get in it. "Time for BED..."

"Bed? You're actually not going to—"

"No, I'm not. And you aren't either. I'm not replacing ANYTHING else."

Tough love came and went in this house, and when it came through his frustration, Bruce always managed to get a grateful kiss from his weary husband. Lord knew how much Clark hated it when he replaced anything those two destroyed. The walls were enough, but personal items? Just trying to calculate the damage amount made the knot in his head throb.

A loud thump stopped them in their tracks. Bruce eyed the source of the sound and glared at the rise of bickering voices coming from what **wasn't** a bedroom. Another thump had Clark sighing, and the third one had them both marching down the hallway. What in God's name could those two have been arguing about now?

"Imogene, give me back my Brush!"

"It's not your brush! It's mom's brush!"

"I don't care! I was using it!"

"You left it lying in the bathroom, so its free property."

"Your soap is about to be **FLYING** property if you don't give it back!"

Somehow, coming to the bathroom and hearing this nonsense made him want to laugh. Clark had no problem in that area, laughing soundly at Bruce trying his damnedest not to crack a smile. "I swear," he muttered, "It's like they live to fight..."

"Go stop them before they destroy the one room left intact for the last three weeks," Clark chuckled, "before you have to tile anything else back up."

The ominous shatter of something shattering had both parents busting in the doorway. The fighting stopped and the pointing started, though the looks of guilt upon their children's faces gave away the guilty. Lucio stood in the far corner of the bathroom with his hair in tangles, a chunk of it lying on the floor near Imogene's feet. The brush in question was still in her hand, but her gown was in tatters. The mirror that had witnessed all of this was in pieces, looking up at the ceiling, the shower, the floor, and upon the guilty in several broken views. In the midst of it all was none other than the flying soap lying helplessly amongst the shards.

"Clark...I'll be to bed soon."

"Mmm. Try not to kill them."

He'd try, but there was no guarantee. Clark sauntered off and closed the door behind him, leaving a very angry father and two withering children in the bathroom alone. Once the muffled yelling began, he sauntered off to the kitchen where he was sure Alfred was waiting with the aspirin.

* * *

><p><strong>10:45 p.m.:<strong> _The resignation of the King_

"He's got no choice but to go," he sighed as he climbed dutifully into the bed. Clark looked up from his reading, clearly alarmed at what his husband was suggesting. Bruce shrugged. It couldn't be helped. "I know..."

"She pulled that much out?"

"No."

"Then-"

"Our _loving_ daughter," he grumbled throwing himself under the sheets, "was testing out something she cooked up. THAT'S why she wanted the brush."

Clark could only moan in response to what that meant. "How many times have I told her NOT to go down there?"

Bruce let his head hit the pillow and shut his eyes. "Too many. Anyhow, some of it landed on his hair, VIA the brush. I found that out AFTER Lucio started screaming for me to come back."

"That's what took so long?"

"No. Then I had to find out WHAT Imogene decided to mix together. Don't be shocked when you see him tomorrow."

Clark resisted sighing and placed his reading aside. In a matter of moments, he was under the sheets as well, though clearly uncomfortable sleeping on his right side. He turned over and found Bruce's arms waiting for him, pulling him and his stomach close enough to settle the three of them down. For once he was looking forward to sleeping more than 3 hours without being kicked awake.

"I almost wish they were babies again..."

Bruce cracked an eye open at that. "Why?"

"Because then you could shut them up with a pacifier."

In the darkness of their room, under the weight of their moping son, their impetuous daughter, and the broken shards of a mirror lain to rest, Bruce laughed and brought Clark closer. The kicking of their unborn went unnoticed, and they both fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>9:15 a.m<strong>_**.:**__ Dark Knight escorts the pawn of light_

"Lucio! I'm not calling you again! LET'S GO!"

With a solemnity like no other their eldest dared to express before, Lucio came stomping down the stairs. He was in an expressively foul mood, with good reason to be. Bruce could sympathize along the lines of foulness his son was taking, but the other matter was positively undisputable. Last night had been the deal breaker; the night to end all nights, like the last and past ones prior. The end result was promising of less than what had been going on for the past two years, and he for the life of him didn't know why he didn't think of this earlier. Despite this, he managed to place a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, those blue eyes tearing up the longer he stood there. He didn't want to do it, but it had to be done.

"Where's mom?"

"Your aunt Diana came and took him last minute shopping for the baby. They took Imogene with them, so don't worry so much."

"She's going to laugh at me!"

"NO she won't. I promise you that much."

It was the least he could do for his son. After all, being punished like this wasn't exactly his cup of tea either.

"I still want to know how the hell she managed to turn your hair green..." he muttered to himself. Lucio cringed and was grateful for the scarf covering his head. "That, and managed to prune it like a hedge..."

"She's EVIL."

"Like my eldest. Don't think I didn't see what you did to her."

For that much, Lucio actually grinned. Bruce hated to admit it, but that was genius. Clark was going to kill them both for it, but the child was too curious for her own good.

"Come on...let's see if we can get it BACK to normal."

Lucio nodded and followed his father out to the waiting car. Somehow Bruce had managed to convince his adoptive sons to watch the little ones for a few hours. Not that he needed convincing. Vaughn had done all the talking for him. With the little ones out of the way, and Imogene nowhere in sight, he could save his son SOME humiliation.

But still, "You're still grounded until I say so, so don't get the wrong idea." He opened the door for Lucio and ushered the boy in, more than willing to accept the grumbling on his son's part. He was a stubborn man when he wanted to be. "This is the last time you'll see the outside of anything aside school and school activities, got it?"

"Yes sir."

* * *

><p><strong>9:15 a.m. somewhere else:<strong> _Queen captures the pawn of dark_

"Mom~~~"

"Don't you '_**mom**__'_ me young lady," Clark scolded whirling about to look her dead in the eye. She cringed and backed off of her pleading, knowing she'd hit the limits with her mother. "If you weren't so impulsive, you wouldn't be in this mess!"

"But all I did—"

"Was turn the boy's HEAD GREEN. I've told you countless times NOT to go in your father's LAB and you never listen! NO, you sit there and be grateful your father only let him do this much to you."

Her Aunt snickered to herself, more than amused at this turn of events. Imogene scowled and turned her head, willing herself not to pout anymore than she had. Her mother, more than aggravated now, headed straight for the last place she wanted him to go. Unable to do much more than choke on her own words, she balled up the sides of the ONLY garment she'd been allotted in the injustice of her brother's revenge. How he managed to get in her room and do THAT to ALL of her clothing...

"You're in need of clothing anyhow," he murmured plucking something PINK from the rack. She wrinkled her nose up in disgust. Her stomach knotted itself up and fell to her frilly shoes pinching the sides of her feet. "And you're getting new shoes too, so don't try and argue your way out of it."

"..."

"Imogene!"

"...yes, ma'am."

Satisfied with that response, he put down the pink and picked up something more tolerable. Imogene sighed and slumped down against the wall.

"I swear, she's a little Bruce when she's ready," Diana laughed. "How can you deal with it, Clark?"

"Where do you think she gets her stubbornness from? Oh, damn..."

"Clark?"

"I'm so ready for this kid to be born..." he sighed rubbing the sore spot his unborn favored. Why he liked stretching upwards was something he was ready to end, just so he could place him IN the crib lying in wait. Diana laughed with good reason, and patted him on the shoulder. "You sure you don't want to trade places?"

"Please, and give up my girlish figure?"

"Just thought I'd ask. Imogene, stop fiddling with your dress and come here," Clark called. "Streaking here will NOT get you out of this, and your father will only clamp down a little harder."

Well, it was a thought. She peeled herself from the wall and headed for her mother holding up a tolerable orange t-shirt. She'd give her father that much credit; his stubbornness outranked hers ten-times over. AT LEAST.

"Why do you two fight so much anyhow?" It wasn't a question directed at her, but the inclination to answer it got the better of her. "I don't understand..."

"Because—"

* * *

><p><strong>11:23 a.m.:<strong>_ Revelation of the Dark Pawn_

"—she's bored." Lucio sighed and fell back against the seat he'd been in for over two hours. Bruce looked up sharply, amazed and appalled. Was he kidding? "When she gets bored, she does what she wants."

"Including aggravating the tar out us?"

"Yeah. I don't pay much attention to her, so she picks fights so I pay attention. It's not like I don't know what she's doing, but she's got to find a better way to do it."

"All DONE!" the hairstylist exclaimed with the pride of Beowulf in his youth. He snapped the cloth from Lucio's shoulders and patted himself on the back for a job well done on a disaster gone south the moment it walked in. He'd balked at it and at Bruce for bringing it in, but a challenge was a challenge. "Well?"

Bruce had to give it to the man. He could fix just about anything that came in here. "You'll get paid—"

"Why thank you—"

"—IF my son can live with it." He stood up and spun the chair Lucio was in towards the mirror, praying he wouldn't die of shock. It was an okay style, as far as his eldest was concerned. He was so used to seeing him with long hair, seeing it five inches shorter was a bit unnerving. His son, on the other hand, just about fainted. "Lucio..."

"It's...it's—"

"You can always grow it out again."

Small hands reached up and clutched the shoulder length locks just barely past his neck. "I hope mom gets her nothing but dresses," he growled, more angry than shocked in the five seconds it took to process it all. Bruce sighed in relief and reached into his pocket.

He was going to have to find a way of entertaining his daughter quickly. He had a feeling his son wasn't going to be paying her much mind until his shock had died down.

* * *

><p><strong>1:42 p.m.:<strong> _Overall STALEMATE_

"Bruce...you didn't!"

He did. It was the only thing he could think of to keep the peace in the house that was prone to holes. He shoved both items in her hands and sent her strait upstairs.

"You BOUGHT her a GameFreak?"

"Yes."

"WHY?"

He shoved their shying son in front of his angry husband and watched his face contort from anger to speechlessness. "This is what she does when she gets bored."

"Oh my god, Lucio! Your hair..."

"Is still there and back to normal...just shorter."

It didn't keep Clark from running his fingers through those black tresses, nor keep their son from finally breaking down. In the end, it was about outsmarting the little devil within that girl when she was bored. How else to you trump a wild stability unless you meet that casual chaos with something a little too challenging even for her?

Still, he owed a lot of it to someone who was just as prone to boredom as she was.

"Did you have to buy her E-Nigma though?" Clark asked as he comforted Lucio. The boy had quieted down to a sniffle, but still clung to his mother as best he could. "Why not BRAIN GAMES or something like that?"

"Because...she's too much like me. She'd figure it out."

"So...you got her something she couldn't figure out?"

"Well—"

"Dad! Where are the batteries?"

Bruce smirked and walked off to locate the rest of the brood in the kitchen. Oh, he might have gotten her something she wanted, but in the end, he had the main component.

"If you want batteries," he called as she came running down the stairs, "ask your grandfather."

The Dark Knight behind the demeanor of an exasperated husband and father, smiled evilly as his little girl realized the extent of her punishment. How else would you punish a little genius? Everything and anything requiring power was owned by the notorious man named Alfred. For what he'd seen, and what had been done, dessert was surely gone, aside anything tasting remotely like anything it's supposed to. What's worse, Alfred alone was the one responsible for batteries. He was the caregiver, the master, and distributor; he maintained a tight reign upon those round cylinders. Getting them was hard enough, but now it was damned near impossible, especially since she nor anyone else in this house EVER figured out where they were stashed.

Bruce smiled a little more and handed her the purchases she'd left behind. "Consider this your last rendezvous with my LAB," he threatened lightly. "If you go down there again, dresses will be the least of your worries. By the WAY," he mentioned eyeing both his son and daughter, "your punishment begins NOW. Your rooms have been stripped of anything remotely entertaining and will stay under confiscation until** I** say otherwise. You will go to school, come home, do your homework, and be IN your rooms. Since my little darlings have also destroyed one bathroom, you will be sharing ONE."

"What? No way—"

"Lucio, Unless you want me to dock you 15 minutes of your allotted hour, SHUSH."

Lucio shut up.

"There will be no running, screaming, jumping, placing holes in the wall, or** fighting** of any kind. IF I hear it, you will find yourselves in complete lockdown and LIVING TOGETHER. Do I make myself clear?"

They heard, they nodded, and obeyed the silent command to go to their rooms.

"Bruce, you are evil..."

"I know. I get it from Alfred."

Nearby, Alfred snorted and said nothing. Your children made you stubborn, and that was that.

* * *

><p>All right! next update soon! Here comes the next baby! ^-^<p> 


	4. Here comes Number Six

I own NO ONE aside Myself, Me, and I.

All of whom are certifiably insane according to the prospects of law twisted at its best. ^-^

* * *

><p><strong>Here comes child number six!<strong>

* * *

><p>He was ready to pop. It was the best way to describe the bloated uncomfortable feeling lingering on his husband's face the longer he sat there trying not to roll his eyes. For the life of him, Bruce didn't quite understand what was happening. He'd never seen Clark this irritated, or this disinterested in anything regarding the final preparations of their next child. He simply sat there, stifling a moan every now and again when his eyes would snap back open.<p>

"Clark..."

"All I want to do...is sleep..." Clark muttered miserably. "He won't let me...every time I close my eyes, he kicks me!"

And thus lie the reason behind his husband's lethargic irritable behavior. Clark wanted a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, and their unborn wasn't giving it to him. Under normal circumstances, he would have sat aside him, rubbed his backside until he was comfortable enough to sleep, but—

"Why? What reason is there for you to be in ASPEN?"

—he wasn't quite home. "I hate the cold more than anything. Do you THINK I want to be up here?" Bruce hissed. "I could think of a million better things to do—"

"—then come home!" he pleaded pressing his forehead to the screen that was their link. Bruce sighed. Clark kept himself from sighing. They both hated it when Clark was like this, oh, but for very different reasons. Clark would find himself turning over the emotional leaf and really have at it, unleashing everything he felt in one fell swoop. Bruce would sit there and listen to it all, wanting nothing more than to help make all the anxiety and helplessness vanish. Right after the emotional wave hit the both of them, Clark would be sitting there red-cheeked, nose running, and tears still falling, but acting as if it never happened. At that point, all Bruce wanted to do was smack him and tell him that it was perfectly normal.

Well, normal as far as they were concerned.

That whine that pressed itself against the front of Clark's clenched teeth was reason enough for Bruce to tell these old geezers to fall in their pre-paid plots, but he didn't. Clark wouldn't have let him even if he agreed. So he was forced to sit there, eyeing his husband trying his damnedest not to cry aloud.

"Sir, they're ready for you," someone called. "Mister Wayne?"

"The old coots can wait ten minutes," he called back with a dismissive wave. "I'm talking to my spouse."

"No, go ahead," Clark murmured. "I'll see you when you get home."

The line was dead before he could even protest. He growled, slamming his fists into the desk and startling the young woman sent to fetch him. He looked up at her sharp gasp, gazing past her tense form and into the limelight of old men trying to keep up in a world that wanted the scent of mothballs off of it. He wasn't so young himself, but what reason—aside the drooling over ski-bunnies—was there to have a meeting in Aspen?

He removed himself from his seat and stalked into the waiting room of board members. Someone was going to be fired if the reasons for this trip didn't include an actual "reason" relating to Wayne Industries.

* * *

><p>"The company WHAT?"<p>

"The company trip, sir. Basically everyone's here for the annual business man's convention; you know, where they teach the older members of the corporate the fast pace of the new world?"

"So...WHY, was **I** dragged here?"

"Something about wanting to make a good impression on some Blue Blood."

So in minced words, anyone and everyone who was on the board were here, not only to keep themselves from getting fired, but to snag some poor sap into their web of woven stubbornness. It was bad enough that the old coots were still HERE, hell-bent on making him one of THEM. Now he had to endure how many hours of what now?

"Then there's the Conference they're holding on a new energy source," she said dismissively. "Not my cup of tea, but eh. What can you do?"

A new energy source? She couldn't possibly be talking about—

"Sir, if I may have a word with you?"

He snapped out of his bored demeanor to spy none other than Lucius Fox standing before him. As much as Bruce enjoyed the older man's company from time to time, seeing him only meant trouble for Wayne industries and a certain Dark Knight. He mustered as much of a smile a clueless billionaire could, and silently vowed to strangle the first man to start ANYTHING.

* * *

><p>"Aspen! He's in ASPEN!" Angrily Clark glared at the slight blip of an unheard voice mail waiting on his cell phone. He hadn't answered it, knowing it would be his husband trying to explain that he had to stay a little longer. It never failed. He continued to ignore his phone, instead grabbing the tissue that was offered to him. "Of all the times he has to leave, why now?"<p>

"Clark..."

"I don't ask for much! All I ask is that he be home when I need him, and he's not HERE! He's in ASPEN with those harlot ski-whores!" He coughed through a sob and yanked another tissue from the box aside him. Thoroughly blowing his nose, he sobbed a little harder when what he said stabbed him in his chest, leaving him cold and breathless. "Oh god...he's not cheating on me, is he?"

"NO! Heaven forbid." Alfred tried his best to soothe. "He's been called away to impress some old money. Those board directors could never swoon anyone on their own."

Clark quieted down to a sniffle, tears still running with his nose. He hiccupped into the tissue, glancing at his husband's adoptive father standing aside a friend that had willingly wandered over to keep him company. He shook his head, and fell over, buried his face in the couch pillow and stayed there. "Why did he have to go?" he whimpered pitifully.

His friend, currently in the same position as he had been when the twins had settled onto his abdomen, touched his shoulder in sympathy. He was sure he wanted to cry just as badly as he was at the moment. His own husband had wandered off back into the depths of space to tend to something, leaving him alone, pregnant with their twins and in care of a very energetic girl named—

"Elizabeth! Stop running like that in this house!"

The little girl's quick footsteps stopped cold and lingered into quick walking. The twins were behind her, giggling for whatever reasons they had. They slipped by the living room and into the hallway were once again, they started running.

"I swear...I think I spoiled her too much..."

This time, Alfred shook his head in sympathy. "It's always your first that gets the attention, Master Wallace," he mentioned lightly. "When more come along, that attention shifts, and they do almost anything to gain it all back."

"She's taken to doing anything all right," Wally muttered. "When John is around, she's on a leash! But since I can't quite CHASE her," he grumbled looking down at his basketball for a belly, "she's free 'til she's crazy!"

"You both need not worry. All things shall pass. In the meanwhile, I must tend to the young ones darting about the house." Alfred excused himself with a light bow and walked off in search of the messy ones. The elder children were still in their rooms on complete lockdown, so he only needed to tend to the twins and his god-niece, Elizabeth. Vaughn was out with his elder brothers for the day, both men having come over in search of Bruce to find he was gone. To ease the burden, they'd volunteered to baby-sit him until the house had settled again. Of course that wouldn't be until Bruce was actually back. Clark was too much of an emotional wreck to do anything assertive.

Clark lifted his head off of the pillow and snatched another tissue. "Wally, is it okay to throttle my husband?"

Wally laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Only if I can kill mine."

* * *

><p>"So, how are the children these days? Still running you ragged?"<p>

Bruce snorted lightly and glanced over the information that had been given to him. There was no doubt about it. Someone was going to come for this technology soon. Hopefully whoever the unlucky idiot was, he would **wait** until hell froze over. At this point he was itching to have someone to unleash his pent up anger on. Not having anyone to fire just yet was making him madder than he would have liked. Despite his inner grumbling, the thought of the kids brought about a loud sigh.

"Hopefully they're not running Clark ragged," he replied softly. He knew they could be a handful when either one of them were gone. Lucio and Imogene on lockdown only meant having to check on them throughout the day. Aiden and Nadia had a habit of making messes from whatever they could get their hands in. At least he'd rid the house of chocolate. And Vaughn; the thought of his smallest child only made him think of Clark.

He had to be a crying mess about now.

"Bruce?"

He shook his head and glanced over the plans once more. "I'm going to be killed."

Lucius Fox, having been on the end of that tone slipping from his own lips so long ago, laughed. "That close, huh."

"He's a week away. Coming up here to impress the blue-bloods helping to keep their asses out of scandalous media with meaningless donations to the charity of the week isn't my idea of a business trip."

"Ah, I know. Yet when you took hold of the reigns—"

"—I took hold of the shit the horse leaves. I know. Still, how the hell did I come up with such fastidious goats running my company?"

Lucius flipped a page on the plans he'd given Bruce and sighed. "They know what they're doing...most of the time. You see," he said pointing to what he'd mentioned previously, "This component here is supposed to enhance the intelligence of militia warfare, enabling us to instill options that we would make upon our natural instinct. This THING here that a certain someone is in the midst of building is the prototype for it. Yet it's not that damned chip I'm worried about."

"The power source..."

"A rare mineral extracted from some ruins found near the temples of Egypt. It's something we've never laid eyes on, at least until recently. Last week, we witnessed the power this mineral can harness, and have surmised that whoever the Gods were had an abundance of it."

Bruce blinked in alarm. "You're telling me that sunlight—"

"Not just sunlight...anything that can emit the energies of a sun or its properties can claim godhood."

Oh this was just not his day.

"You'd better hope this kid decides to wait," Lucius warned lightly. "You might be stuck here for a little while."

* * *

><p>"WHAT?"<p>

He was furious. With good reason. However, that wasn't going to calm the ringing in his ears. Bruce tried his best to keep a straight face, fixed his tie nervously and went over the given excuse in his head.

Yeah, he was a dead man.

"I can't believe this! HOW did you manage to get dragged into this?"

"Someone's been thinking of incorporating Wayne industries technology with this latest project Lex Corp has funded. While it may revolutionize the militia world, its power source is far too dangerous."

"It would explain why they're only making three...but damn it, that's not the point!"

"I know."

"You know, Clark's going to be SO mad. Thankfully he's sleeping..."

Sleep? He was actually sleeping? A sense of immediate relief and dread overwhelmed the usual stoic demeanor upon Bruce's face. It was the first sign. It was also an incentive to hurry the hell up and get home before prior events repeated themselves. After the debacle with Vaughn's birth, Clark was not ready to be alone.

**He** wasn't ready for Clark to be _alone_.

"Again, I ask...how the hell did you manage this one?" Wally inquired.

Bruce shook his head. "You know what? I don't know. I came here on business and somehow I wound up gazing into the throat of Hell."

His teammate snorted and sat back glaring at nothing in particular. It had become a habit of bad timing and fate that made each of these events a little...eventful. Heaven knew that with each child's arrival something had happened. No one could say for sure why such things decided to happen, but they knew it was attributed to perhaps the main component of their lives. They were superheroes.

Somewhere in the back of Wally the kids were peeking into the room. They were trying to overhear the reasons why their uncle would be yelling at their father, and to get a glimpse of him. He had been away more than two days already and they, alongside their mother, grew antsy when he was gone for so long. Of course, kids being kids, the adults knew they were there. Sighing slightly, Bruce and Wally let the matter drop and ushered the kids into the room. Without being told twice, everyone bombarded the screen excitedly.

"Daddy, Daddy! When are you coming home?"

"Soon Aiden, very soon. Have you been good for your Uncle Wally and your grandfather?" he asked trying not to mention his spouse. Saying it was asking for Clark to stir from a sleep he'd fallen into after crying a solid two hours. He hid a cringe behind his smile. If he wasn't a dead man now, he was dead the moment he came home.

Lucio, currently taking a break from the stripped walls of his room, was the second one in this face. Bruce snorted. "No."

"Come on~~!" he whined grabbing the screen. "I've been good!"

"For a whole **two** weeks. Two more and you'll get to watch what **I** deem appropriate. That excludes television."

Wally had to whistle lightly at the severity of Lucio's punishment. Getting shot down like that was incentive enough for Imogene not to even think of asking. Still, the curiosity of the situation had his own little girl bubbling with questions of awe. "Jeez, what did you do for Uncle Bruce to be that mad?" Elizabeth pondered. "It had to be bad...he's got that look my daddy has when I've been **really** bad."

"Never mind Elizabeth," Wally chided. "Mind your manners and go wash for supper. The whole lot of you."

Lucio was the first to stalk off, but not before looking back at his father's face. There was no getting around it and they both knew it. He walked off, Imogene silently sulking behind him. Aiden and Nadia kissed the screen on either side and waved. Elizabeth grinned and ran off, following the commanding clap that summoned them to Alfred's side. Bruce sighed and leaned on his wrist.

"Where's Vaughn? Sleeping?"

Wally shook his head. "Dick and Tim took him until you get back."

Was it really all that bad? He thought it better not to assume and nodded silently. "Okay. I'll call later."

"Right. Hey, if John pops in, tell him to hurry up."

Somehow, that wasn't going to be a problem. "Sure."

* * *

><p><em><strong>That night...<strong>_

He sighed, already hating the fact that he'd had to pull out the winter whites. Being in Aspen this time of year was reason enough to catch cold in that thin cloth. Rolls of wisps flowed gently into the air, the heat of his body leaving him only through the thin shielding of his mask. The rest of him was warm and comfortable in the 15 degree weather, but his spine was freezing. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. He knew, and it was making him very anxious to get this over with.

Still, patience was a virtue he often didn't adhere to.

Leaping off of the branch he'd been sitting in, he landed softly against the soft thrush of the snow. A good bit of it had fallen during the day, making the slopes perfect for those old cogs to attempt a romp at a social sport no man over fifty should attempt. Getting up there himself, he hadn't joined in the spoils of ego inflations, opting to watch three out of the seven that had gone downhill bust their asses. Of course he'd laughed, and laughed harder still when he'd gone back to the privacy of his room. While the thick snow had cushioned them from breaking something vital, being this thick made it harder to make his way toward the building. He toyed with the idea of using his built-in skis, but thought better of it. No one needed to see a white ghost this time of the night in their drunken hazes.

"Snooping?"

What else? Glancing up at the voice that had questioned him in the darkness, he waved him closer until he landed at his side. "Where'd you go to?"

"Had some guardian business to tend to. It happens every now and then."

"Hn. Wally said hurry up."

"Figures."

A slight blip on a line he never failed to pick up kept them from moving another inch. The vinyl of that mask widened, the screen coming to live with a single push of a button. He was half expecting his spouse to be on the other line, but was slightly shocked to see Lucio panting on the other end of it. "Son?"

_"Dad! You've got to come home, quick!"_

"What's the matter?"

_"This weird guy just showed up!"_

Weird guy? "Describe him to me!"

He didn't need to. No sooner had Lucio opened his mouth he heard the foul mouth lingering in the background commenting on his place_. "Hey, nice shin-dig you got here! Where's the beer?"_ Lucio cringed and ducked as the door opened, and in walked the last person he ever thought to see this late in the game. That massive chalk white face grinned at his image, waving drunkenly with a smirk playing at his lips. Guns in hand, and an empty beer bottle in the other, he made himself comfortable in the chair residing nearby. _"Well what do you know? Fancy seeing you here!"_

_**Oh dear god...why?**_ "Lobo..."

_"In the sodden flesh. Didn't know this was your crash pad."_

There were only three reasons why that thing would be in his house. One: he was looking for Clark. Two: he was looking for something else. Three: he was BORED. "Please tell me you're not visiting for the hell of it."

_"Me? Nah...Wouldn't dream of sitting here that long. Not without a beer,"_ he sniffed. "_But, if you got to know, I dropped in because I need a little help from the man-o-steel. Tracked him here...but I don't see him. Man, I need a beer..."_

What he needed to do was get the hell out his house before something violent took place. "You check the fortress?"

He snorted, the drunken bastard, and half glared at his narrowing eyes. _"Right. Like I'm going to check for what's not there."_

Okay, so he wasn't as dumb as he looked. Fighting a growl, he kept his nonchalant demeanor up even as the creep kicked his legs up. Out came the cigar and the lighter, and in five seconds he was looking at a healthy cloud of smoke that had his son covering his nose. _"Nice family you got here. Where's the little lady?"_ he asked. _"Imagine she'd be right mad."_

_"Mad?"_ someone seethed from nearby. Batman, clearly not expecting that voice, held his breath alongside Green Lantern's as a single hand snatched the offending Czarnian out of his chair. Instinct alone told him to shut up, wincing as Lobo flew past the screen and into the nearest wall. His spouse darted past the screen, uncaring of his present state or the shock registering upon Lobo's face. Lucio—for the sake of saving his own neck—darted out the room as Wally came rushing into it. He spied the screen and his teammates staring in horror of the beat down the Czarnian was receiving.

_"How dare you think to walk in here like this!"_ *SMACK_* "Smoking around my children!"_ *WHACK* _"I'll rip your _fucking head off!"

_"Whoa, WHOA! Clark, let's not kill the man!"_ Wally cried.

_"Why NOT?"_

_"You're a good guy?"_

He seriously didn't want to take that into consideration, but relented. He settled for dropping him like a sack of potatoes and collapsing against the wall with a wince. Wally was instantly at his side, supporting him one moment and horrified the next. The mirrored look of horror reflected itself upon Clark's face, eyes glancing downward at the soaked garments clinging to his trembling thighs. Again he winced, breathing deeply as the inevitable finally decided to happen.

"Is he—?"

Clark snapped his gaze up at the worried exclamation. _"B-Batman?"_

"I think now would be a good time to come home, huh?"

_"Is that a joke? YES DAMN IT!"_

As much as he would have liked to, the sudden movement of some idiot trying to do the obvious kept him from moving in the direction of home. "I'll be home as soon as I can," he soothed. "Just be calm..."

_"Be calm?"_

Another crash kept him from replying. Lobo rose, shaking his head a little when the familiar ranting of a certain female came ringing in loud and clear. _"And there would be my little problem,_" he groaned. _"Oi...men are never like this."_

Before they could even ponder that, the loud shrill of an unforgettable voice rang through the halls_. "LOBO! Get out here you little shit!"_ Another crash made them all jump, and set off a twin set of cries that had Clark seeing red. He got to his feet and stalked off into the hallway. Wally ran after him, And Lobo stayed where he was.

Yeah...someone was going to get hurt before the night was over.

* * *

><p>"Mom?"<p>

Clark inhaled deeply and held in the soft groan that wanted out. This was moving a lot faster than he would have liked, which was a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing was that soon it would all be over. The bad thing was that it would be over, and Bruce was nowhere in sight. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the twins' birth, or to buy a new bed. He sighed, feeling his abdomen ripple with relief before turning to the questioning eyes of his children.

"Are you having the baby?" Imogene all but squeaked. Jeez, no hiding anything from her, huh? "Mom, you can't! Dad's not—"

"This baby is coming with or without your daddy," he breathed. "Even though I would like...**nothing**...better than to have the man responsible for this...**here**...the baby is impatient."

Imogene plopped on the floor, completely gone with shock. Clark couldn't help but grin a bit in remembrance. She was her father's child in that department. Bruce had a level head, but when he was shocked his brain cut itself off. Luckily Lucio had the common sense to lift Imogene off of the floor and plant her somewhere else that wasn't quite in the center of things. Alfred—though moving up there in age—was running about getting the proper materials. Between the twins and Vaughn being born the way they were, he wasn't about to be caught unprepared a third time.

"Hey old timer, is there a beer in here or what?"

Unfortunately, no one was prepared for this.

"For crying the hell out loud, could you behave for, I don't know—THREE MINUTES?" she spat.

Lobo, currently nursing the smack he'd gotten from her, glared. She glared at him a little more heatedly, daring him to say anything that wouldn't set her off. Not that he wouldn't want to pass up the chance to really piss her off for the mere fact that she was royalty, but she wasn't an ordinary queen. NO. Far from that. Wally gazed at the pair of them from where he was seated, completely in awe of what sat before the lot of them located in the current living room. He'd heard stories, but he'd never thought that these people would come barging back in like this!

"Mommy, who are they?" Elizabeth whispered pressing herself deeper into his embrace. He shifted so he wouldn't be squished and shushed her soft squeaks with a kiss on her head. "Mommy..."

"Don't worry, honey...that's just Lobo and Queen Maxima..."

If the twin looks of utter disbelief didn't have the children floored, Wally and Clark were completely caught off guard by it. Lobo, in his drunken haze, seemed to finally sober up long enough to realize that something was amiss. Maxima didn't need to be sober. She needed a drink, and a heavy one at that.

"Did...we miss something?" Lobo asked, unsure if he wanted the answer. "What's with all the rugrats?"

"Why are you here anyhow?" Clark countered. "Can't you see we're a little busy here?"

It seemed as if it all came crashing down with the hangover he always seemed to avoid. He clutched his head, daring to peer up at Clark in the throes of a contraction that shouldn't have been. But HOW? WHEN? How the hell did the "man of steel" get knocked up? Who was the father for crying out loud? "Don't tell me..."

"Unless you're ready to play catch, state your business and LEAVE."

Lobo and Maxima glared at the other and pointed. Clark rolled his eyes and made himself a little more comfortable on the couch.

"She keeps going on about marriage!"

"HE won't settle down!"

"I don't want to settle down!"

"I am NOT your benefit BUDDY!"

"Heh, but you love it baby..."

Lobo found himself face first in the carpet with her boot on the backside of his head. "Say one more thing and you'll find yourself headless!" she hissed. She stomped him further when that knowing look was apparent. "Don't give me any smart remarks either!"

"OW! All right, ALL RIGHT! Just get off a me!"

Wally rolled his eyes at them. "Uh, guys, there's this thing called a COUNSELOR, okay? GO FIND ONE!"

"Look, this isn't the real reason we came here." Maxima glared at Lobo telling him in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth shut. Lobo complied, as much as he could without swearing too much. Wally covered Elizabeth's ears and silently vowed to have John kick the living crap out of that freak. "We've got bigger issues than this freak."

"MMmm, fer once, she's right," Lobo grumbled. "A couple of days ago, I was approached about finding an energy source that was limitless. For the right price of course," he grinned. "Anyhow, the problem was that this energy source had been lying dormant for eons. One of those...er, relic thingies."

Elizabeth blinked as Wally sighed in annoyance. "_'One of those relic thingies'_...you want to be a little more specific?" he snapped lightly. "I mean, you come in here and cause chaos, and you can't even tell us **what** this thing is?"

"Whoa...can you **LAY** off? What do you expect when I don't have a beer? I'm getting to all that, if you'd kindly shut it!"

Wally's complexion twisted with his face and his lovingly obvious daughter took notice. "Oooh...my daddy's gonna kick your behind..." Elizabeth sang softly. Wally's lips twitched a bit.

Lobo sneered at the little girl until he was smacked upside his head...**again.** This time he had Clark to thank for it. "What the—?"

"Look, this energy source is a relic used by an ancient race of people long gone," Maxima explained. "Such a source was used to establish rank amongst their people, usually within their houses. Of course once this race dissolved, their technology was spread throughout the universe. Pieces of it landed wherever, but this source of energy was lost. Many people have looked for it and found nothing, but after researching a bit, we've found that the closest thing even relating to their culture and a possible location for this source was your Egyptian civilization."

"Wait, we've already established that the Thanagarians were responsible for the creation of that culture," Clark said. "You mean to tell me that they had a piece of this lost technology?"

"Perhaps, but even so, whatever this source is, it's been broken into three pieces. The stem that holds it, the gem that stores it, and the actual mineral that it is. Without the other two housing the mineral, it would literally be an untapped source of limitless energy. However, if the mineral reacts long enough to the factor that triggers it, without the imprisoning items, well...you know..."

"Earth goes BOOM. Greeeat," Wally snorted. "You know, you people have really bad timing. Couldn't this wait until AFTER the kid is born?"

In all their haste to get to the point, they'd almost forgotten about Clark on the couch trying not to scream. His clenched hands were a dead give away to how much this was paining him. Maxima sighed and Lobo held his head and sank. He wasn't going to be much help when those people looking for this relic showed up.

"WHAT?"

He could only wince in that uncaring but slightly guilty look that was all his. "Did...I forget to mention that?"

* * *

><p>Batman battled many a thug and thief, and yes, a villain or five. He'd battled monsters, magicians, aliens, and yes, himself a time or two. All of them, including himself, were a pain in the royal ass. Yet these people...these people and their guns wanting to evaporate more than skin were wearing thin on his nerves. They definitely weren't human. He knew this only because he'd hit one in the face and wanted to cringe at the squish that followed. Then there was the whole slightly disfigured face thing. The last time he checked, in human anatomy, once someone's nose was jammed into his face, he did one of two things. One: he DIED. Two: he fell on the ground and woke up in a hospital bed. And injured man with that type of a break to the face definitely did not reel back, regain his balance, and then looked you dead in the eye with the gun pointed between your own. So, Batman did the only logical thing.<p>

He ran. FAST.

"Lantern!"

"Don't look at me!" Green Lantern rose in the air and deflected another one of those gun shots with his shield. "I don't know who they are, or WHAT they are! AH!"

The last shot was a lucky one and a reality crusher if there ever was one of this magnitude. The shield shattered. Green Lantern ducked to where Batman was currently crouched, wincing before staring at the hole three centimeters from his head. Hiding behind a pole was not his idea of a good cover, but there was a very good chance he'd end up like the guardsman who tried to come in here before.

"Hey, are his clothes still there?"

Someone had been hanging around his husband too much. "You're not asking me that." Batman muttered.

"Yes, I am! Are his clothes still there?"

Batman groaned to himself and made a mental recall. The guard came in, asked what the hell was going on, and then nothing. He was gone, but his clothes were still warm in a pile without him in it. He blinked and faintly remembered something else, but his attentions were brought back to their little situation with another shot aimed at them. This time the laser did nothing more than evaporate against the pillar they hid behind, unlike the prior one that put a hole near Green Lantern's head.

"They're using two types of guns," Batman realized. "They're trying to ward us off..."

"Off of what?"

"My guess is that energy source."

He still didn't have name for it, or what this source looked like. All he knew was that it was locked up somewhere in this facility. A piece of it anyhow. From what Lucius had divulged, not many actually knew what this source looked like. It could have been anything. All he knew at the moment was if anything with qualities like that of the sun came looking for this thing, they were in a heap of trouble.

He was half hoping it would be one of the "hot" villains looking for this piece. Someone like Phosphorus, or Volcana...hell, even Dr. Light would have been better than these things behind them. He sat there trying his damnedest to think of something to get them out of this mess, until there was a slight blip on his communicator. Half expecting it to be Clark, he was completely dumbfounded when Maxima appeared on the screen.

"What the—?"

* * *

><p>Wally wanted to slap himself silly for forgetting. It should have clicked the moment they mentioned it. However, he wasn't really concerned for anything aside the well being of their children. It took a moment for him to recall the last few hectic moments of his life, and less to quickly relay what he'd been told.<p>

"Batman, don't engage them!" Maxima warned. "They're highly dangerous!"

A shot rang out and Green Lantern cursed loud enough for Wally and Elizabeth to widened their eyes. Batman would have cursed too, had he not been busily kicking something or someone in the face. _"It's a little late for that!"_ he grunted. _"What are they?"_

"We seriously do NOT know," Lobo answered. "I say just let them take the damned thing. One or two galaxies missing won't hurt anyone."

"**You** would say that," Maxima growled. "I don't know why I bother with you!"

_"Can we focus on the fighting here?"_ Green Lantern snapped. _"What is with the guns?"_

"Hehe, those little babies are sweet," Lobo grinned. "They can evaporate the shit out of you, or transport you into the middle of nowhere. I got my hands on one for a little while before I broke it."

_"Broke it?"_

"Hah, such technology isn't without its flaws. You hit those babies in the right spot and BAM! No more gun."

A loud groan from the couch had the kids, Maxima, Lobo, and Alfred staring at Clark. He sighed, panting a little more as he turned his face into the cushion. Batman ignored the sounds of Green Lantern off to beat down those things and focused on Clark. _"How long have you been like this?"_ He called. _"Don't LIE either!"_

Clark couldn't find it in himself to lie even if he really wanted to. "Since...this morning...I thought it was false labor..."

Good god he'd been in labor for hours now. Batman was lost between blanching for not seeing it before and wanting to scream. He settled on backhanding one of those things that had gotten too close. _"That's enough!"_ he spat. _"I don't have time for this!"_

This time it was Lobo, Maxima's, and Wally's turn to blink incredulously at the screen going blank and the sounds of obvious anger reigning down upon the enemy. Clark forgot about the pain long enough to stare intently at the screen until it came back to life. Batman was on the other end of it, growling and holding up what appeared to be a human-like creature angrily. _"Wally, contact J'onn."_

"Oookay...and, what are you going to do?"

Did it really matter? Lobo quickly decided on a quick "no" and put the whole situation to rest in his mind. His new focus?

"Where's the nearest seven-eleven?"

Getting a whole case of Bud.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Wayne!"<p>

Ugh. He hated it when they addressed him in such a fashion, especially after the night he was having. He quickly shut his phone and glared the tycoon waving him down into a withering mess of babble. "Can I **help** you?" he stressed, particularly on the "help" part. He was in no mood to be stopped for anything less than his own immediate death. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, uh...leaving us so soon?"

Could he **not** see the bags? "Yes. Something's come up and it requires my immediate attention."

After three hours of cleaning out the mess that their little fight had caused, taking in those who started the nonsense, and unsuccessfully finding that they did not respond well to mind probing, he was more than a little ready to go home. He was only too glad that reinforcements had come when they had to intercept another round of their "visitors". Once things had settled for the most part, he decided that it was best to go home and face the music. He'd had enough for one night.

One of the other old cogs that happened to be as nosey as he was fat sauntered up to them with an indulgent look upon his rosy cheeks. "And what is more important than extending our business into new uncharted and possibly a wealth-wile investment?" he asked. "All we ask is that you show up and do your job. Leaving like this is highly unprofessional and a flaw of a good executive." He sniffed indignantly and eyed Bruce distastefully. "What, pray-tell, would move you from making practical history?"

Lightly plucking the bit of lint from his eighty-dollar tie, Bruce calmly spun on his heel and smiled coldly. "I believe that I once said I have my own agendas," he stated. "None of which are your concern. However, for the sake of being slightly belligerent in my unruffled uncouth mannerisms, I'd have to say it's none of your god damned business."

"Mr. Wayne!"

"Had you an INKLING of what the world was outside of your four course meals, mindless propaganda upon the golf course, and leisure trips outside of the money you're paid to sit on your ass, you'd know that my family comes before all else."

"What family could you possibly be rambling on about?" he snorted. "Your family is here with the company, and you are not seeing to its well being!"

He would not give him the satisfaction of wilting under a guilt that was not there. "What could you possibly KNOW about the well being of others when you have gone through FIVE wives?" he nearly spat. "Each one taking a little more than their entitled share of a company you pay others to run for you? My family is my spouse, at home, IN LABOR. My children, all SEVEN of them, will one day RUN this company and if anything, I will teach them that their family is more important than the stench of money."

Those fat rosy cheeks colored up nicely. So, people had forgotten that he wasn't the billionaire playboy people still chalked him up to being. He couldn't keep himself from doing what his mind screamed for him not to do. But it was necessary. Lightly patting him on one of those cheeks, he slapped the breast pocket of his suit and muttered, "You're fired."

The fat cog nearly busted the bulging veins in his neck. He didn't care at that point. Grabbing the bags he'd packed, he turned away from the glaring lights of the party going well on into the night and headed for the cold crisp air of Gotham. John went with him, neither man really minding the slight tingle of being pulled from one place and into the other. After the beating they'd taken, this was the best part of their night.

* * *

><p><strong>A half hour later:<strong>

"We were only trying to gain a means to revive our planet!" one protested. "We meant no harm!"

"You completely evaporated that dude!"

"We did no such thing! He resides somewhere on your planet...what we believe is known as Alaska."

Bruce sent a withering glare at Lobo raising his hands in surrender. "How was I supposed to know?" he griped. "These guys weren't the ones I talked to!"

"If you are referring to those hooligans, I assure you, we've taken care of them."

Once again Bruce rolled his eyes and ignored those who argued in back of them. He settled himself into the grove of the couch, mind lost on those who lay against him silent. Clark sighed deeply, tired and on the verge of sleep, but he remained aware as their newborn son continued to enjoy his first meal. Lucio sat at his feet watching in wonderment. Imogene remained at his side, curiosity getting the best of her the longer she watched her mother feed her new brother. Aiden and Nadia were both asleep on the love seat, curled up in a batman blanket that was meant for such events. Had Vaughn been here, he would have probably been the one asking the questions no one quite voiced.

Despite this, somehow this moment wouldn't have seemed right if something wasn't going on. That something of the moment happened to be the ambassador of those things they'd reigned in on an adrenaline kick. After subduing them and trading them off to J'onn in turn for a free trip home, one of them beamed down and landed right in the center of their living room.

Had it not been for Clark screaming as is, Bruce might have choked the thing.

He really should stop calling it a thing. It was..._something_. While it could and did take on the shape of anything that suited its needs, its real form was somewhere between a mix of Martian and human...with the fangs of a shark. They weren't for telling them just "what" their race was, but the energy source of the first race was worth dying for in their opinion. "We need it! It is imperative that we have it! If not..."

"Yeah, yeah, your world is doomed. Whatever. Get a new program and suck it up you big baby." Lobo took a long swig of his long awaited beer and reclined against the side of the wall he'd perched himself against. "You act like galaxies don't die every day."

"Are you always so caustic?"

"Noooo, just realistic. And anyhow, do you have the other components to contain such a massive force? If you HADN'T NOTICED, this planet's galaxy is powered by a **yellow** sun. Unless you have something to contain it, you're as good as dead."

John stopped playing with Elizabeth long enough to openly gawk at Lobo. Wally had long since passed that point, and silently worked his jaw shut.

"Daddy?"

John snapped out of it. "Huh? Oh, sorry."

Bruce should have known. There was always a flaw in these illustrious plans involving history changing militia. Calmly sighing to himself, Bruce turned his tired glare upon the representative. Of what, he'd never know. "Your sun is dead, and you need a new source, correct?"

It blinked owlishly at him. "Y-yes. But how did—?"

"Certain races have adapted under certain environments. In a place were no true sun resides, why not have an artificial one?"

"...I do not—"

"You're pale. If your race is related to whom I believe, you can't handle certain UV. You need a source to grow your food, but something that won't hurt you when you walk outside. That's why you attacked so late. You weren't trying to be sneaky, you were trying to stay away from the sun." Bruce sighed this time, loudly, and reached for the com link jammed in his ear. "J'onn..."

_"I heard. I'll see to it that it's handled."_

And that was that. Bruce wiped himself clean of the whole situation and turned back to Clark snoring soundly alongside their new son.

It was a good thing he managed to get someone to record this.

Maxima's eyes settled longingly upon the couple as she softly smacked Lobo in his arm. "Why can't you be like that?"

For what it was worth, she really didn't mean it. She had to be crazy if she meant it, and he didn't DO PSYCHOTIC. _**I've got more than enough of that**_ he thought chugging down the rest of his beer. He glanced at the empty bottle, sighed, and wondered if he could rob the next store.

* * *

><p>Before you start shooting off questions:<p>

1. Yes, Wally and John are a couple. Yes, they are married. Yes, they have a little girl named Elizabeth and twins on the way. How? Let's say Wally did a favor for some grateful aliens that warped his DNA a little bit. :) That will be explained in another chapter.

2. No, I'm not taking names for the newest addition to the family. :)

3. Yes, there will be plenty of tender moments later on. Next chapter up soon. :)

Reviews are awesome. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. :)


	5. Arrivals and Adjustments

**Arrivals and Adjustments**

And I still own nothing.

Well...I own my own insanity. No one wants that. I still don't see why. It's not that contagious.

* * *

><p><strong>Readjustments to new arrivals<strong>

Three days had come and gone before he could really think about it. The madness that had occurred before and after their latest addition's arrival didn't seem to steer them off the path into the repeated mayhem that was parenthood with the addition of another mouth to feed. Bruce absently rubbed his head, a yawn pressing at the back of his teeth and his eyes trying not to close their selves. He was bone tired, sleep a thing of the past for another six or so months, or until the baby decided that sleep was more important than messing up his diaper or demanding food.

He smiled a little at that. Every last one of their kids was a little glutton and this one was no different. The small babe drank from his bottle greedily, famished after being bathed, swaddled, changed, swaddled again, and rocked back into a calm state that only his mother could manage. Bruce was absolutely fine with that, but while Clark took care of their littlest one it meant that he had to deal with the rest of the kids.

Joy.

Lucio had taken to their newest addition with the pride of brother who had many plans for another boy to the household. Bruce was glad of it, not wanting to relive the madness that was sibling rivalry. He and Imogene did that well enough even at their current ages, and were on lock down for it. He hadn't relinquished their punishments just because they had a new baby in the house. It was a cold fact that Imogene couldn't quite grasp but one she wasn't going to question. Bruce with little sleep was not a happy daddy that liked to be messed with.

Imogene did coo at the baby every now and again, but she was more interested in the things that they weren't talking about…like if Clark actually breastfed. The child was too inquisitive for her own good. Getting the answer had caused her brain to freeze up for a solid hour. Bruce had never seen her so quiet, or so shocked when she snapped out of her stupor.

Aiden and Nadia didn't know what to really make of the new baby. They stared at it, curious about what was shuffling in the blankets that their mother held against himself, but other than that they stayed to themselves and got into even more mischief. At five, his twins were capable of anything. He'd learned that the hard way when they had discovered they could fly.

The only child who was the most excited about it was Vaughn. He'd been vocal about it since the day he'd found out he was going to be a big brother. Tim and Dick had been kind enough to take him for a few days while they adjusted to the initial promise of sleepless nights and yawn filled days, but they did have lives of their own. So Vaughn was brought back on the fourth day, running straight for them the moment he noticed the blanket, Clark's smiling face, the lack of a stomach, and Bruce waiting for him to leap into his arms. Bruce scooped his excited three year-old from the floor and sat him down in his lap, gently leaning them over to look at their newest addition to their rather large family.

The baby yawned largely, opening his sapphire eyes to stare up curiously at the three faces peering down at him. He didn't know what to make of the newest one, at least not until he was close enough to kiss his cloth covered head. He gurgled curiously, an almost smile on his face.

He sneezed.

"Hah! He sneezed!"

"Because he likes you," Clark laughed. "He did that to your daddy, too."

He did a few other things to his daddy, but they wouldn't open that discussion. Clark was still sore from three days ago, and his husband was still wiping his face clean. It'd be funnier later when he wouldn't wince at the thought of laughing harder than a chuckle. "Did you have a good time with Dick and Tim?" he asked. "Did you behave?"

As serious as a three year old could muster, he nodded severely. "I evened ate all my veg...veg—those green things!"

His father turned about and stared incredulously at his elder boys. "What was the bribe?"

Dick, having heard all this before, rolled his eyes. "No bribe. He wanted to make you proud."

"That and he got to help mix the batter for the cake we made," Tim chuckled.

In other words, they let their brother lick the spoon. _**Figures**_. "Hn. He's yours if he bounces tonight."

The light tugging of his shirt had him looking down at his second smallest. "Daddie...? What's his name?"

He couldn't keep the light grin that came to his face away from his family. A slight quirk of amused lips had everyone gathering closer. In the three day madness of ridding themselves of Lobo, Maxima, and those unnamed aliens, they hadn't christened him with a name until this morning.

"After staring at him for a moment, it came to me," Bruce said. "Of course, I had to discuss it with Clark and he agreed."

"It just stuck," Clark said with a light laugh. "Besides, we're not going through the books like we did with Lucio."

"So, what's his name?" Tim asked.

Clark and Bruce looked at one another and back down at the baby drifting back to slumber. "We're calling this one Riley Liam Wayne," Bruce said. "Don't ask me why, but he looks like a Riley…and then he's another little Clark, right down to the s-curl hair."

Clark kissed him for that, enjoying the radiant joy that was emanating from his loving but obviously tired husband. "Considering that you're holding your clone in your arms, I'd say I had it coming." He sat back, shifting a bit to make himself comfortable as their little one buried himself deeper into his arms. "I was cute as a kid though."

The baby approved, snoring a bit as the laughter of the adults drifted over him.

* * *

><p>Bruce sighed tiredly as he wrenched himself out of his nice comfortable spot in his bed for what had to be the fourth time that night. Clark simply refused to move, more than exhausted and rightfully so. Bruce didn't dare wake him, not even if the man insisted on it prior to dropping like a log in the bed.<p>

It was the same with all the other children when they were born. Riley was no exception to the rule about babies and their indecision to sleep more than a couple of hours. Riley wasn't so much wailing as he was fussing, and it could have been about just anything that was making the small one uncomfortable. Bruce forced himself to move a little faster over to the waiting crib, peering in just before his son's wails became all out screams. His pacifier was at his side and from what Bruce could smell he'd soiled himself…again.

He gently picked the fussing babe up, cooing in that way he'd found himself doing when their first was born. Clark had pointed it out to him once, and he'd been so embarrassed that he hadn't noticed it himself. It worked though. Riley quieted long enough to be changed quickly and settled back into the warm groove of Bruce's arms when he sat on the bed again. Sleepy and content blue eyes peered up at him. A small snuffle from behind the pacifier he placed back in his son's mouth was all he got before the little one was back out.

"I think they get more docile as they come along," said Clark's sleepy voice. "Riley drops off really quickly."

"That's because he's laid back like his mom." Bruce smiled sleepily at the cherub that his son resembled, brought back to their first encounter with babies and sleepless nights. "We passed with Lucio…so I suppose this is reward enough, correct?"

"Heaven yes."

"…are you still sore?"

"Not as badly…" Clark sighed. "Riley was bigger than the others as well…they weren't kidding when they said every pregnancy is different."

Clark did have a tougher time this time around. Bruce owed it mostly to the nerves that had been shot to hell after Vaughn's traumatic birth. Lucio's birth was as textbook as one could get without including the fact that he was part kryptonian. Imogene's was relatively a little less dramatic, but she was born a week late and then she didn't want to drop right away when Clark did go into labor. Bruce still felt guilty when he thought about the twins' birth…he'd almost missed it due to unfortunate circumstances and spent the better part of their first year trying to make it up to them and Clark.

But Vaughn's birth…yes, it was definitely enough to put them off of having children for a while yet. However, thanks to someone's idea of enhancing some punch and their sudden night to themselves, Riley was conceived, and Bruce wouldn't have changed that for anything, no matter how nerve wracking the first couple of months was.

Clark sat up, shifting a bit to rest against the pillows. "I'm amazed at how people gripe about the sleepless nights," he said softly. "This is quiet time…considering how children are when they get older."

"Yes indeed...and the tantrums are enough to wish they were small and drooling babies for a while longer…" Bruce easily passed their son over to Clark, moving close enough to place an arm around his shoulders and watch their son sleep with his head pressed against his spouse's. "How long are you giving him?"

"About an hour. He doesn't go longer than three without eating."

Bruce laughed softly and kissed the side of Clark's head. "I think I enjoy this part the most…"

"What part?"

"Having you to talk to…or just sit with. I know so many couples that have fallen apart because they're so concerned with who does what instead of just enjoying their child…"

"…you're not hiring that bastard back."

"Wasn't planning on it. You're getting good at reading my other thoughts."

"Well that…and I know that phone of yours was buzzing before Riley started fussing…and I like this part of it, too…knowing you'll get up with me instead of letting me do it on my own."

It was a two way partnership. Bruce had it in his head from the beginning when their first little boy was on the way. It was the least they could do for one another, especially since Clark had done most of the work before all of their children were born. He didn't care how exhausted he might have been, or if he'd decided to do a nightly patrol; Bruce would always endeavor to wake and tend to their children right alongside Clark unless he was in a mild coma.

Riley wasn't but a couple of days old. He was far from sleeping through the night just yet. They'd long since earned their badges of honor in the sleepless night department, so it was of little bother to them. Lucio, when he was first born, had certainly put them through their paces. He had this uncanny way of sleeping though the day and waking ever two hours on the dot to be feed all through the night. Bruce had been amazed at his punctuality and annoyed because there was no lapse. It took about fifteen minutes to feed him, and another fifteen to rock him back to sleep. By then a half hour was up and then they had to make sure he wasn't clinging to them when he did drift off. If he was, putting him back in the crib was asking for him to wake up and waste what little time they had left to close their eyes.

They eventually found a routine that worked, and it often resulted in nights like this one. Staying up with his spouse was part of the package, one part he was glad to do when Clark had managed to grant him not one but six kids. All of them were a handful, and Bruce was sure that their newest addition would put them through the paces as well.

He almost couldn't wait.

"Mom? Dad?"

Bruce kept a small smile to himself as he looked to the partially open door. Thought their children were growing up, there were times where he would be reminded that they were still kids. Lucio stood peering into the depths of their room, looking pale and slightly upset by something. He was still grounded, but he wouldn't have left his room if something hadn't spooked him. When he saw that they were up he hesitated, not sure if it was a wise idea to bother them with the baby sleeping in Clark's arms.

Bruce appreciated the thoughtfulness, but Lucio was his son as well. He motioned for the boy to come inside, not surprised to see him slip in without his feet on the ground. He flew over to the bed; dropping into his father's waiting arms and burying himself against the comforting warmth.

"Nightmare?"

Lucio nodded and tried not to whimper at the after images in his mind. Bruce held him, tremors and all, shushing him when the soft whimpers would arise. Even at the age of ten, children were vulnerable to nightmares that made no sense. Bruce knew it wasn't from something he watched. Lucio was still banned from television.

"What happened? Tell me…"

"I dunno…it was just too dark," Lucio cried softly. "Like there were no lights…and this guy kept laughing…"

"Laughing?"

"…yeah…he just…wouldn't stop…and I kept running…and running…but he kept chasing me…and then I woke up when this big smile came out of nowhere and tried to eat me…"

Clark looked at Bruce in alarm. That sounded too much like a certain bastard clown that had been lying low for a while, but not low enough for people to forget about him. "Lucio…have the kids at school been talking about…_**him**_?" Clark asked. "Telling stories and stuff like that?"

"Yeah…we're not supposed to but Billy Hanson wouldn't shut up about it," Lucio sniffed. "He just kept telling us that the Joker's gonna get us when we're sleeping…and make us laugh to death…"

"Billy Hanson has no business telling you such nonsense…and you know your father and I would never let that happen." Bruce would sooner take the clown out than to entertain the thought and Clark would probably put him through several walls just to reiterate that fact. "I think someone needs to talk to Mr. Hanson about what he tells his son," he said eyeing Bruce. "Officer or not, that's not something to tell a child."

"I'll talk to him first thing in the morning," Bruce assured. "Until then, why don't we all try and get some sleep?"

It didn't take long for Lucio to drop back off, tucked in between his parents and aware that he was safe. Riley, on the other hand, woke like Clark said he would and had the two parents up a little while longer as they fed him and talked amongst themselves.

"Are we going to place him back to bed?" Clark asked quietly.

Bruce shook his head and tugged the covers up around their slumbering son. "No. He can stay here tonight."

"You're such a good father."

"…I'll be even better when I manage to make sure that his nightmare is not a possibility."

Clark kissed him for his efforts. Like it or not, there were just some things in life that they could not control. They would do their best to make sure that they did all they could to protect their children, even if it was from the occasional nightmare.

* * *

><p>When morning came, the usual routine was tossed to the four winds and it was back to playing it by ear. That meant, according to Bruce with a distinct lack of sleep, that there was to be no type of nonsense that would not adhere to his desires. Lucio, having been through the drill more than once, was up the moment his father shook him awake at six in the morning and in his assigned bathroom four minutes later. Bruce was impressed with the discipline he showed.<p>

He still was grounded, but he got points for effort.

Bruce crept out of their room, leaving a slumbering Clark with a kiss and bidding a sleeping Riley a short farewell. Clark would be down before it was time for everyone to go. Bruce was the designated driver this morning, having placed his paternity leave into the office the same day he'd come back to the mayhem of Lobo, Maxima, and those shark vampire things in his household. Lucius Fox had graciously accepted that paperwork and told him to take his time in coming back. That wasn't going to be a problem. He'd been pondering for a while now about cutting some of his office hours and spending more time with the family. He still had to run it by Clark, but he didn't think his spouse would object to it much.

His first stop of the morning was Imogene's room. He rapped on the door twice, opened it, and wondered how a little nine year old girl could be so messy. There were clothes strewn everywhere, patches of orange and blue and other colors that were anything but pink in piles and hanging out of drawers. There were papers gathered in one spot on the floor; math algorithms and formulas that looked to be the premature requisite of some kind of solvent…or temporary dye. He couldn't tell since half of it was erased and the other half was scribbled hastily.

Bruce maneuvered his way to the bedding where he eventually found the mop of thick curly hair that was his daughter's attached to the slumbering body. He shook what he hoped was her shoulder. It was hard to tell with the clothing she slept under. "Imogene…get up…"

"Mmmm….do I have to?" she murmured. "I want to sleep longer…"

"You want to get up now before I drag your butt out of this bed and find something pink for you to wear today."

She shot up like lightning and was out of the bed quicker than he could suggest the dress she'd been forced to wear two weeks ago. "Dad…why are you so maladjusted?"

"Do you want me to hand it to you on a spreadsheet, write it down as a formula, or spell it out for you as I'm pulling out that nice—"

"Ugh, dad, no! Okay, I'm up!"

"Great! Lucio is in the bathroom. Once he's out, you're in. Take that time to clean some of this mess up. I expect you downstairs at seven thirty…and you're EATING something."

"Food is overrated in the morning…"

"Food is necessary for the brain to function well enough to know that if a certain daughter of mine has any sense of self preservation, she'll stop countering my sentences, find the energy to clean up half of this mess, find her way into the bathroom, and come down to breakfast looking like the little girl she is with her hair as a part of that equation if she ever wants her freedom in this lifetime."

Imogene's sleepy green eyes widened so much that Bruce could see the true depths of them. He knew that she was truly awake then, her face contemplative as she took in his strained smile pointed in her direction. Her father was not a smiling man. He was a smirking kind, one that saved his smiles for her mother and the little pleasures of life that caught him off guard. When he grinned like that, it was a sign of two things…and she was betting on the first when he scowled at her unresponsiveness.

"…is it safe to assume that you didn't sleep much last night?" she queried.

Bruce smirked then, patted her head, and yanked her from her sheets. "Yes." He set her down on the floor, turned her to what was probably the largest pile of mess in her room, and kissed her head in parting. "I'm coming back in fifteen. I expect some liveliness."

"Yes dad."

"And your equations need work. You put that in anyone's hair and you'll burn it off, along with their face."

Bruce would never openly admit to many things, including the self indulgence of the look on Imogene's face when she couldn't quite comprehend that there were smarter people in the world than herself. It was one of those things children learned the hard way. He certainly had, and accepting that made life much easier.

He stepped out of the room in time to scoop up his nosey three year old looking for some sign of his parents. Vaughn readily went up and with the flow, clinging to Bruce as he trekked down the hall and eventually into the twins' room. Aiden was up and playing with a set of blocks he'd gotten for Christmas, and Nadia….

"Nadia…come down right this instant!"

…his youngest daughter was on the ceiling playing with her favorite doll. She pouted, but she eventually came down. She landed at his feet just as Aiden tackled his leg and demanded a ride downstairs just as is.

Bruce was glad for one thing as he carried Vaughn and dragged a giggling Aiden along for the ride. His children would probably never ask him for driving lessons. Flying lessons though…that was all Clark. Nadia certainly needed them as she drifted passed him and barely stopped herself from hitting a wall.

He wondered how long it would be until Riley started floating.

* * *

><p>"Master Bruce, is there anything you or Master Clark would require aside the usual shopping?"<p>

Bruce looked up from where he was seated on the floor messing with Nadia's shoes. He had a feeling they were getting to small, but they were pink and had rainbows on them, which was the reasoning behind not giving them to the trashcan. "Uh, no…but I think we're going to have to devise a swap tactic soon," he said, "like we've done before."

"Ah. I'll do my end of the workload and get back with you. Call me if you require something along my route."

"Grandpa, can you get me a different cereal?" Aiden asked. "I don't like Lucky Bits anymore."

"Oh? And what is it you want?"

"I dunno…but I twust you. You'll get me something good. You're the bestest at stuff like that!"

Alfred smiled widely and ruffled the small child on the head. "You remind me so much of your daddy…" he said fondly. "Are you going to bring me another picture to put on the fridge?"

"Uh-huh! This time I'm gonna draw a dinosaur! They're ex-tint you know."

"Really? Well then, I'll have to tell my dear friend Mr. Geoff that he's extinct…and boy won't he make such a face?"

Aiden giggled and hugged Alfred's legs. He soon let go to grab his belongings, as did Nadia when Bruce deemed her suitable for the outside world. He got up, a small groan on his lips when his back gave a noticeable protest to his movement. "Believe me, it only gets worse," Alfred joked dryly. "Do mind yourself today, and take an aspirin if need be."

"Yes, Alfred."

"And—"

"I won't pick up my phone…for business anyhow."

"Splendid! Well, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Alfred left with parting waves to the children running back into the foyer. Aiden and Nadia were the first to line up by the door, followed by Lucio taking a moment to try and tame the cowlick on Aiden's head. Vaughn was zipping up his coat, and Imogene was avoiding looking at Nadia to keep herself from cringing at the pink princess.

It never failed to amaze him that this rowdy bunch was his.

"All right," he called. "Time to hit the road. Before anyone asks, NO ONE is sitting in the front seat."

"Preemptive strike," Imogene sighed. "And I had a good argument today."

"I'm sure. Your mom would be proud that you look like a girl today. And no pink!"

Imogene tried not to grin. Tried. It was a little hard when her father reached out and hugged her to his side jokingly. "It's not that bad being a girl…but know I will shoot any man trying to date you. A father's logic changes when it comes to his daughters." This time Nadia laughed as she was included in the category when Bruce patted her head. "But I don't have to worry for a while."

"Says you," Lucio chuckled.

Bruce didn't have to ask to hear the unsaid. "I trust my son will make it known that I will not be happy with anyone trying to gain favor with my daughters."

"Oh, they know. Michael Hornsby is a jerk anyhow."

Bruce added that name to the mental list of possible threats to his sanity and mentally docked off a day for that information. Lucio still had another week left of his grounding. Imogene still had another two months, and Bruce could see her starting to crack around the edges. Usually there was a huge debate in the mornings about several things, clothing and hair being the main topics and Clark chasing her to make her presentable. That hadn't happened. She came downstairs on time, dressed and ready for the day, and she didn't even put a fuss up about taking her vitamins.

Come to think about it, she and Lucio hadn't fought…not even behind closed doors. They still weren't talking to one another openly, but this silence truce was a little unnerving.

"Dad? Is something wrong?"

Yes. "No." His children were maturing. It was slightly _**frightening**_. "Just thinking. Everyone outside and into the car. I'll be out in a moment."

Lucio took the twins by their hands and escorted them outside. Imogene picked up Vaughn and smiled at his innocent babble as he questioned her about why her hair wasn't messy today. Bruce turned around in time to see Clark land directly behind him with Riley in his arms snoring like there was no tomorrow. "You noticed it too, huh?"

Bruce nodded and kissed him farewell. "Call if you need something."

"Don't I always?"

"No. But I mean it this time."

"Yes, Dear."

He kissed Riley's head farewell and was off to do the things father's did when they had time to themselves. He was on the phone in minutes, caught between asking Gordon to do something about what George Hanson told his son, answering Vaughn's questions, and wondering when his eldest two children had matured enough to ignore one another without fighting about it.

He was sure that life was just one big adjustment. It was just a matter of how well one adjusted to it.

From the look of things, his family was adjusting just fine in regards to their new arrival.

He gave it a week before things were back to chaos, which was just fine with him.

* * *

><p>I know. :) Long time no update. I'll be back later on.<p> 


	6. Six Months Later

**Six months later: The Announcement of G.**

Nope…still don't own a darn thing except the kids.

I want the parents too…

* * *

><p><em><strong>All right, I think I've set up an appropriate time line according to Birthdays, which I tried to coincide with the births as they happened. Vaughn would have been born in January had he not been premature. <strong>_

_**According to when Riley was born, it's April. It's not quite Imogene's birthday but we're not covering it since the next chapter is birthday themed and the start of the second photo album of stories. :)**_

_**The Series is as Follows:**_

_**Family Album One:  
><strong>_Getting from point A to F with G tagging along for the ride.

_Part 1: Interesting Features. Vaughn asks the questions._

_Part 2: Recalling that night Aiden and Nadia came._

_Part 3: Imogene and Lucio like to fight._

_Part 4: Here comes F!_

_Part 5: Arrivals and Adjustments_

_Part 6: Six months later, the announcement of G._

_**Family Album Two:  
><strong>_Those moments you want to forget but remember too vividly.

_Part 1: Birthday Bash!_

_Part 2: Play Date-who's the bad guy?_

_Part 3: Nightmare on Elmo Street_

_Part 4: Game Night_

_Part 5: When Daddy's away_

_Part 6: The arrival of G._

_**Family Album Three:**_  
>Not wanting them to grow up.<p>

_Part 1: The TALK (puberty)_

_Part 2: The TALK (girls)_

_Part 3: School Dayz_

_Part 4: Slumber Parties_

_Part 5: Realization_

_Part 6: G says the unexpected._

_**Family Album Four:  
><strong>_Family, Friends...and Teenagers.

_Part 1: Grounded for Speeding_

_Part 2: Flying without a License_

_Part 3: Dating the enemy_

_Part 4: Oncoming Doom_

_Part 5: Learning the family trade_

_Part 6: Entering the work force._

**And Birthdays and Ages are as follows: **

_Lucio - March 14 (11)_

_Imogene- April 18 (9 going on 10)_

_Aiden and Nadia - February 22 (6)_

_Vaughn – November 7 (4)_

_Riley – October 4 (six months old)_

_Bruce - October 13 (46)_

_Clark - May 13 (39)_

**_We made Clark a little younger than Bruce after some research on Birthdays and such. No one has a definitive answer for Clark Kent's birthday, and although I'm not completely sure, I think Bruce was always depicted as the older man. Not to mention trying to mesh together time lines according to movies and such and that just makes it unnecessarily complicated. So, Clark's younger. All right? _**

_**Oh, and Wally's condition is explained in this chapter as well. We'll hear more about his little family in later chapters! :) **_

* * *

><p><p>

**Idle conversation A:**

"Oh my god, he's getting so big!"

Clark couldn't keep from smiling at the cooing sensations of his co-worker gushing over his youngest as he tried to assess if he wanted to pull her hair or not. Riley couldn't quite make up his small mind, so he settled for kicking his little legs back and forth in excitement when Lois tickled his tummy.

"That's his daddy's smile, yes it is," she cooed. "Bruce never smiles that long but I know it anywhere…"

Bruce was certainly smiling now, though it was against his pillow accompanied with a snore he'd earned from the trying week he'd had at the office. Clark spied him on the couch, napping with their four year old, Vaughn. Vaughn was playing tag along again. One week he was attached to Bruce's hip and the next he was attached to Clark's. It wasn't uncommon, but it made for cuter moments when Vaughn decided to do everything his father did. This morning had granted Alfred a rare but heartfelt picture of Bruce sipping his coffee and Vaughn asking for a mug like his father's to drink out of. He grabbed a piece of the news paper that Bruce had been done with and sat there staring at it as Bruce glimpsed through the headlines of the Business section.

When he asked his father why the paper was so boring, Bruce had rubbed his head and said, "Because you haven't colored it yet."

There was a section highlighting the scores of the game last night on the fridge with green, purple, and blue scribbles all over it. It was sitting next to the new pictures that had been placed on the metal backboard that was a chronicle of the past six months. There was a picture of Riley at three months, sitting up and staring at them from the cushioned seat he'd been placed on. Vaughn's picture was above his, forever covered in cake and grinning as he helped himself to his birthday cake. The twins were in another photo nearby, dressed as red love bugs for their school Valentine's Day pageant. Aiden was grinning and Nadia was less than thrilled to have anyone take a photo of her in anything less than pink. Imogene's smile was captured in a photo they'd only taken recently, portraying her musical genius at a recital she'd been in. Lucio…

"Mom…can you check my essay?"

There wasn't a recent photo of his oldest son. Lucio had avoided all and any cameras until his hair had grown back, which hadn't been until recently. His hair was tied back in a neat braid that thumped against his back when he plastered himself to the back of the couch and showed Clark the essay in question.

"You owe me a photo young man."

"Since when?"

"Since you won't let me put up the one's from your soccer game last week."

"Mom! My hair was a mess and I was dirty!"

"You're a boy. I expect that from you."

Clark plucked the paper out of Lucio's hands, instructing the boy to sit next to him. "How much is she paying you this time?" he asked when he glanced over it. "Grammar is still excellent…train of thought still needs work…"

"She said she'd stop taking my things apart for a week."

Clark stopped reading and looked at his smiling son. "…she still hasn't figured it out?"

"No, and I'm not telling her."

"Telling who what?" Lois asked. Riley was settled in her lap and drooling all over his plush toy animal happily. "Let me in on it! I'm good at keeping secrets."

It was the first time Lucio noticed her. Usually she was easy to spot because she and his father were bantering playfully with one another, or she had some outfit on that some of the boys he knew would drool over. "When did you get here Aunt Lois?" Today she was dressed in normal clothing, meaning a t-shirt that had some kind of strange graphic design on it and jeans. It was very odd, but it didn't deter her from answering him with a small smirk.

"A little while ago. I came to harass your mom about some assignments and get my fill of Riley before he outgrows me like the rest of you."

It was a running joke that always had Clark chuckling to himself and Lucio rolling his eyes. He got up and sat next to his aunt anyhow, letting her hug him as best she could with the baby in her lap. "You're getting too big," she admonished playfully. "You keep growing like this and you'll be this handsome fellow for all the girls to kill themselves over."

"They already try," Clark dryly stated. "I blame his father's genes."

"His daddy **_is_** a looker. Is that harlot still trying to snag him?"

The word "trying" was mixed with the word failure alongside a choice few others in the impolite sentence running through Clark's head. "Ms. Viola needs to find another hobby." It wouldn't do for him to start letting his son see that he could be anything like his father on a good day. "She's convinced that I'm adopting kids as a means to make sure Bruce can't get away from me."

"Vicky said?"

"No, Joanne…and you **know** she doesn't gossip at all unless it's true." The poor woman was a Saint that carried herself as a humbled person secretly capable of telling someone off with a look. Bruce liked her immediately the first time they met her at a PTA meeting. The small quiet woman of mixed backgrounds never said a bad thing about anyone, but she did tell vital information that people tended to speak when they forgot she was around to those she liked and wanted to warn in advance. "Joanne was over here last week to help bake for the bake sale with Jason and Kim. All three of them were telling me about what she was telling everyone…about how my husband is in a relationship that he doesn't know how to get out of, and that I adopt my kids in a similar fashion to which some women have their kids as a means of fixing a broken relationship."

Lois clucked her tongue in disgust. Riley found the new sound fascinating and giggled. She kept doing it until Riley found that his hand was interesting again. "Kids are so easy sometimes."

"Adults are confusing," Lucio said. He turned to his mother scanning through the essay that wasn't his but Imogene's; ashamed to admit that she didn't excel in something so common like English. Give her a math problem or a violin and she was a genius. English escaped her, as well as fashion sometimes. "Ms. Viola isn't really stupid enough to hit on dad, is she? Why would she do that?"

"Because sometimes people want what they can't have," Clark sighed. "It's a sad fact that we live with everyday…and don't you repeat this, but YES, that woman is stupid enough to try and put her claws in your father."

Lucio scrunched up his face in utter confusion. "…but she's seeing Mr. Justin…."

"….Wait, what?"

If Clark had water in his mouth he would have spit it out. As such, he stared at his son moving to make himself comfortable on the couch with half of his weight on him. Lois stopped making faces at Riley and scooted closer. This, she had to hear. "How do you know that?"

"Because Hanna said that Becky's boyfriend Tommy had gone over to Greg's house and Mr. Justin had stayed the night before. When I asked Greg about it, he said that Mr. Justin had been coming around a lot. He likes her you know…but I don't think it's a good thing for him."

"And the gossip train lives," Lois crowed. "Kids are little gold mines for information! Wait until I tell Hector!"

"Hector will destroy that harlot," Bruce's sleep filled voice muttered. He stretched as much as he could with a sleeping four year old on him, which wasn't that much without cracking something loudly. He was set on going back to sleep, but someone, namely Lois smirking at him, kept him awake a few seconds longer. "Tell Frank while you're at it. It'll give me a reason to turn my nose up at her when she propositions me at the PTA meeting next week."

"What about Justin?" Clark asked. "I think he really likes her…"

Bruce snorted sleepily and said, "I'll take care of it."

"Does this mean I get a raise in my allowance?" Lucio asked.

Clark grinned at his eleven year old son and kissed the top of his head. "You'd have to **get** allowance first, kiddo."

"Don't worry Lucio, you're not missing anything special," Lois said. "Usually allowance is underpaid wages for doing household things you'd have to do even without a bribe. My mom used to pay me five dollars to wash the dishes and clean the floors every day. All I got out of it was the strange power to spot grease on anything and an appreciation for hard wood floors. Vacuuming those rugs was a nightmare."

"For once, listen to your Aunt Lois."

She reached over a popped Clark in the shoulder. "Meanie."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Leads to Idle conversation B…<span>**

"Has she really been spreading that dribble?"

Clark nodded and kept snapping the string beans as he worked. A quick hand grabbed another few from the pile that was on the table, snapping more with a giggle and furthermore entertained for it. He smiled at his nice and said to her father, "The woman is out to get me."

John shook his head and kept cutting the potatoes. "I don't understand women like that. I mean, she's young yes, but why is she sticking her nose somewhere she isn't welcome? If she knew the truth I bet you her brain would overload."

That's not what he wanted to say, but the little girl snapping green beans with Clark had a tendency to repeat anything she heard that wasn't for small ears. "She's of the opinion that I '_adopt'_ more kids to keep my husband from straying." He scoffed at his own words, a little more than put off that someone would think that or say it. "If anything, if Bruce even thinks about it more than a moment I'm pregnant."

The man in questing kissed the back of his head. "I believe I've learned my lesson," he chuckled. "I have six wonderful kids. I think that's enough."

"Where are all the kids anyhow? It's quiet…"

"Riley's down for his nap, Vaughn is playing with the twins in the playroom, Imogene is lamenting over her English homework and Lucio is talking to Lois in the living room."

"And I'm here Uncle Bruce!" his niece, Elizabeth exclaimed. "Don't forget about me!"

He could never forget about Elizabeth. Bruce grinned at the little girl and braced himself for the exuberant and quick hug that would come alongside being seven and full of energy. She was in his arms quicker than he could blink and laughing at her father's exasperated look when he wondered for the thousandth time how she managed to inherit her mother's speed.

The truth of the matter was that Elizabeth, the sweet little girl with thick curly auburn hair, freckles on her heart-shaped tanned face, and a smile like her mom was a child of inconceivable means. Wally happened to be one of the rare males upon this planet that harbored the same issue as Clark. Clark's excuse was that he was an alien and prone to conceiving regardless of how he looked. Wally, on the other hand, was a part of a group that went about their lives avoiding that little tidbit of their lives. Not many knew about it and thanks to people who worked with red tape and disappearing acts, not many would. The gene that resulted in this rare phenomenon was because of an unleashed chemical exposure gone horridly wrong. People were told that it was an E-Coli breakout when in fact it was a little more than that. Most people who were exposed to it had no visible side effects. It happened internally and was detected much later on when someone, a male, was brought to a hospital some odd years ago with stomach pains when in fact, he was giving birth. The chemical was meant to develop as a serum for army use, but several variables had been wrong and having a certain metabolism triggered the effects of it. Wally more than fit the bill. The people who were dubbed as "Carriers" were told that it was indeed a possibility to conceive, but more unlikely than anything.

Bruce only learned this after conveniently hacking into the government database and seeing everything for himself after Wally let him know about his own condition. Wally's little issue came into light about two years before John and Wally wed. They weren't expecting anything to happen and were even looking to adopt. Bruce snorted to himself, remembering the look on John's face when he managed to do the near impossible and knock Wally up.

Elizabeth came into the world squalling and cute as a strawberry button. Wally was more than happy to have her and was glad to settle for the daughter he never thought he'd have. John, on the other hand, had Bruce's issue. The moment he thought that things were safe, they weren't. He'd been flabbergasted to find that Wally was pregnant again, and this time managed to conceive two rather than one.

Bruce hadn't laughed that hard in weeks.

"How's Wally anyhow?" Bruce asked. "Getting any rest?"

"As much as he can," John sighed. "He's ready to pop and they're comfortable where they're at. He's still in disbelief that he made it full term."

"Be glad," Clark chuckled. "It's more time to enjoy them when they're not hollering at the same time or one after the other."

"That's going to be **such** fun."

"Liar."

"A little bit. You sure you're not going to pop out another? Just for the sake of doing so and freaking that woman out?"

Clark rolled his eyes, ignored his husband's laughter, and went back to snapping beans. "John, if I wind up pregnant, I'm blaming you. Bruce will be making an appointment with his doctor." The look on their faces was enough to warrant a laugh out of Clark, despite his severity of his words. "I'm serious."

John gave Bruce a sideways look. "You'd better warn your doctor."

Bruce sighed silently and said nothing in relation to the horror going through his head.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Which leads to serious conversation C…<span>**

"Why do we come to these things?"

"Because we're good parents."

"We could still be good parents and take our kids to McDonald's like normal parents."

"Alfred would kill you. Then I would because you're advertising that it's okay to take meals from clowns. Like they know what's good for you."

Bruce tried not to laugh too much at the put upon look Clark was giving him. He was kidding though, which was shown with a soft kiss to his cheek and their movement forward through the throng of parents and teachers making nice with one another. The meeting itself had been over for about ten minutes, but as with every meeting, there was the meet and greet and getting to talk with people that they liked or could live without. Bruce had gotten through the people he could care less about early on in the game and they were chatting up some of the other rich folk that came for appearances sake. It gave them more than enough room to leave or to make conversation with the few parents that didn't get on their nerves with their false sense of commitment.

That little group they considered to be actual friends was in the corner near the exit, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Jason was nursing his drink of choice; coffee that he'd bought on the way here to keep from drinking the coffee flavored water the committee tried to pass off. Kim was aside him, her hands twisting about wildly as she ranted about something that one of her three kids did this morning. One of those triplets was always getting into something, and their father didn't help by laughing about their antics. Of course Thomas, trying his best not to snicker at his wife, kept his attention on Justin and David. Justin really wasn't paying too much attention to anything, and David was trying not to watch Justin out of the corner of his eye. Joanne, the one closest to the door with her keys in hand, noticed Bruce and Clark and rolled her eyes skyward as she tended to at the obvious.

"So…I take it that it's that obvious now, huh?" Clark asked him.

"More than obvious," Bruce muttered. "David is not subtle and Justin is clueless. It makes it funnier."

They made their way over and quickly found themselves in the middle of that small group bubbling with questions about a certain someone that hadn't made herself seen yet. When Bruce looked at Justin, he still really wasn't paying too much attention; at least not until he reached over and tapped the man on the face.

"Please tell me you really weren't sleeping with her…"

"Pfft, no," Justin muttered. "I tutor in my spare time…and apparently babysit teens. Greg thinks I come over for Viola but she's a born again flirt that flirts with her own image if she could. Besides," he groaned, rolling his eyes at Bruce, "all she talks about is **you**. No man has a shot even if I did contemplate the insane notion of asking her out."

"Lois mentioned that she heard that you were seeing Viola," Kim said. "Apparently the kids all think so…I blame MTV."

"I'm not…Greg is _really_ **bad** at basic English but a genius in math…which is probably the oddest thing I've ever seen." He rubbed his neck, trying not to remember how it took him an hour to explain the concept of independent clauses. "I stay late because Greg needs the help, not that his sister is paying him much mind."

"Mathematicians don't have a value for English unless they're speaking the technical terms of their theories," Clark said. "Imogene refused to acknowledge it, which is why she sends Lucio down with her Essays claiming that they're his."

"I trust you're handling that?"

"Subtly…but I think I might need to employ an aid to shock my daughter into humbling herself enough to ask for help without feeling…inferior."

Justin smirked a little and nodded. "I promise not to steal your husband."

"I think that's Viola's job in life…" Joanne groaned. "That woman needs to find her own man and pester him with her intentions for a lavish lifestyle. The woman is delusional. Bruce, you're how old now?"

"Almost fifty…and my back is telling on me," he grumbled. He owed a lot of that to age, misuse and that time he'd had his back broken by that monstrosity BANE but…they didn't have to know the last part. "Besides, getting involved with someone that much younger just invites readjustments. I'm plenty happy with routine and someone that puts up with my bullshit rather than trying to put me on some fad diet."

"Sounds like love to me," Thomas chuckled. He wrapped his arm around Kim and kept laughing even as she pelted him in the chest playfully. "She may try and smack me for some of the things I do, but she loves me for me…which is better than trying to stay trim and fit for some young thing that will bleed me dry. That's what kids are for! Ow!"

"Thomas, I only did it because I love you and I don't want you to die needlessly," Kim growled. She sighed, rubbed the sore spot on his arm and said, "Now that I think about it…kids do bleed you dry…"

"But you love them."

"I couldn't imagine life without them…and I wish on them what my parents wished on me. Little clones of their bad selves. MAN we were horrible kids!"

Everyone was in hysterics, except Clark trying his best not to laugh any harder than a mild giggle. His left arm flew to his middle and the right hand quickly covered his mouth feigning control. Bruce had seen this once too often for him not to know what it signified. Someone was wearing something that was turning Clark's stomach inside out and he hadn't smelt it until it was too close to do anything about it. The lovely tint of green he was trying to push on the florescent lighting was telling on my more than his uneasy face trying to keep up the feeble smile.

Bruce quickly held his husband up before he could go down with his stomach.

"You didn't eat anything here, did you? That's a death sentence!" Kim cried.

"No, he didn't eat anything," Bruce assured. "We know who made the brownies."

"Helen really needs to find a new hobby," Justin sighed. "Poisoning people with chocolate is just wrong."

"Do you need a can or something?" David asked. "I'm sure seeing your upchuck will keep them from asking for donations…especially if they felt like they caused it."

"No-no…I'm okay," Clark breathed. "Just…too much…perfume…"

Joanne and Kim knew they weren't wearing anything more fragrant than Gain and cleanser. The men were wearing whatever aftershave or deodorant of choice they had for the day. It only left one option, one that they openly groaned at when she clicked her way over to their little group smelling of a bottle of Chanel .05 and looking as if she were headed out for a night on the town courtesy of someone else's VISA.

Bruce could smell her for sure now, and it made him feel that much worse for his husband and his ultra sensitive nose. "Jesus, Viola….did you drown yourself?"

Viola clearly didn't see it for the insult that it was. Flipping her long black wavy hair, she giggled and winked at the openly confounded man. "I thought you said you liked the way it smelt on me," she cooed. "Most men do."

"I said I liked Chanel…I didn't mention anything about it on your person."

"Frankly, I thought you were talking about Chanel from the office that time," David said. He ignored the look of contempt she threw him. "I mean, you asked him if he liked Chanel, and let's be honest, Chanel is one of the nicer people. I totally like Chanel."

"Yes, but she is a bit of an airhead," Thomas amended. "Doesn't even realize Marco's pining after her."

Joanne leered at David and Justin. "Sounds like two more people we know." David had the good grace to look away with red cheeks and Justin was as confused as ever. The smaller woman laughed at them. "Hopeless."

"Okay, I think I'm done," Kim muttered covering her nose. "I'm glad Vicky's not over here, because she'd be barfing all over the place…not that I want you to, Clark…but you know what I mean."

Clark knew about that more intimately than he let on. Vicky, the pour woman, was in her first trimester with her second baby. She alone brought proof to the saying that every pregnancy was different with the one eighty she did this time around. When she had her first seven years ago, she was one of the fortunate ones that only got half of the issues that came with pregnancy. Now…now she was darting for the bathroom at the slightest smell that disagreed with her nose and stomach. Her sense of smell was off the charts, which was highly unfortunate for her husband since he came from the land that embraced strong smelling spices.

She must have skipped out knowing that her stomach would not agree to the smell of Viola in her prime. If she was here, she would have thrown up long before or even on her, which wasn't a bad idea. Bruce caught him before he could allow his body to do so, for which Clark was slightly perturbed but grateful.

"Is there something you wanted, Viola?" Justin asked.

She flashed him one of the fakest smiles anyone had seen in a long while and it wasn't even election time yet. "Well, yes…but I was hoping to do it in private for…your sake." She adjusted her bag on her shoulders, clasped her hands together in front of her, and said without the slightest care for who heard, "I'm afraid that I can't allow you to tutor my brother anymore. It's come to my attention that people think that we are sleeping together when in fact…we're not. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she amended, laughing a bit, "but…you understand, right?"

Justin understood it better than she thought. He threw Bruce a knowing glance and snorted as he grabbed Jason's coffee and chugged the rest of it without thought. Like magic, Jason produced another and shook his head at David trying not to look strangely appalled and amused. "I put something in mine when I get here," Jason explained softly. "I need the kick not to strangle myself…"

"So that's why you're quiet…"

"Not really. I'm quiet because my kick loosens my lips and while it's only a little bit, it's enough to let the truth spring free like Viola's legs at the thought of trying to bed the man she's trying to impress." He took a sip of his normal sobering coffee, ignored the strangled sound coming from Viola trying to kill him mentally, and said, "Besides, she wasn't sleeping with Justin…she's sleeping with Lawrence."

"Wait, Lawrence?" Kim cried. "Lawrence from the office? How—"

"Came over the other night and spilled his guts after his usual. My kid thinks it's the funniest thing; does a mean impression of Sponge-Bob." He leered and snickered to himself. "You should have heard him after my kid went to bed. I will never look at Elmo and Sponge-Bob the same way."

"Excuse me!" Viola snapped. "I don't think it's any of your business to tell anyone about my private affairs! I don't even know you like that!"

"Funny you should say that," Bruce commented none too lightly. The ominous tone to his voice had everyone quiet, even the people that were seconds from leaving and had nothing to do with the conversation at hand. Viola found herself frozen at his sudden cold gaze. She'd never experienced the not so polite side of Bruce. No one truly had, but then Bruce wasn't the type to handle his affairs in public unless it was necessary.

Clark felt Bruce's grip on his waist tighten. Things were going to get ugly quick.

"It's come to my attention that you, Ms. Viola, have been saying things about my spouse that are not any of your concern nor something you should even be speaking about." Her slender mouth dropped open slightly, due to protest or shock, Bruce wasn't sure of nor did he care. "Now, while I expect the occasional remark about me or my spouse for whatever reason, I do not expect anyone to voice their opinion of my personal relationship with my **husband**."

Viola sputtered a moment, her thoughts in a whirl as she tried to figure out just where the tables had turned. "I-I'm not sure what you're implying, Mr. Wayne…but I can assure you—"

"That what? That my husband adopts a child when we're having a spat to keep me tied down? That I'm unhappy? That I'm being kept in a relationship that I can't get out of because of obligation?" Each sentence dropped her mouth a little further until it snapped shut in an effort not to make a garbled noise of embarrassment. Her red face was telling, as was her averted gaze. "Ms. Viola…I can assure you that none of that is true."

She was fidgeting for something to say, but the only thing that came out was, "B-but…you came onto me! You said you like my perfume! You even made a comment about my dress last time!"

Jason nearly snorted his coffee out of his nose. "Oh my god, woman…he said that your dress was SHORT. It was like, **obscene**…"

"He was trying to be nice," Kim said. "The rest of us…yeah, we're not so nice. We let you walk around in that thing with your cheeks flashing and your cellulite on display." She scrunched up her nose and waved her hand dismissively at the woman looking like she'd been told her Prada bag had been stolen. "It's all right. They have pills for that now."

"Regardless of what you may have thought," Bruce said before the problem could escalate, "I never had intentions of leading you on or making you think you had a shot in the darkest space imaginable." Clark snickered, still nauseated but reassured of his spot in life with the frank explanations of his husband. "I love my husband. I love my children. I love my life and I don't see myself leaving it for anything less than dying…and I don't believe I'm going to die anytime soon."

Rather than wait for Viola to recompose herself, Bruce gave a motioned head nod to the others and directed them to follow. He wanted something decent to eat and he was sure Clark wanted some fresh air. There was also the sudden little nudge at the back of his mind about the sudden reaction his spouse gave at the scent of something common. He didn't want to address it yet, though he knew that Clark would be in that foreboding bathroom the moment they got home with the last box sitting at the bottom of their lowest drawer in the dresser.

Maybe buying seven of those EPT's was a bad idea.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Which leads to the announcement of G.<span>**

"…well?"

"Well what?"

"Well why are we all sitting here waiting for you to say something?"

Bruce had half a mind to reach out and strangle his eldest boy, but Dick was far too quick and had Riley in hand. Riley was busily gnawing at his shirt, which had a nice spit soaked mark forming. He'd already messed up his tie, and Dick knew better than to wear one around their children at a young age. Little hands that didn't know their own strength tended to tug without realizing the funny faces being made are ones of strangulation. Bruce had found that out the hard way with Lucio when he was going through that phase where little hands had to touch everything and pull just as much. Clark had been horrified but then laughed insanely hours after the fact.

Bruce rubbed his neck absently and tried not to choke himself.

"Pops…everything's all right?"

He nodded at Tim and smiled at Vaughn wiggling around in Tim's embrace. At four, the little tyke had gotten growth spurt that made his parents sure that he was going to be a last minute bloomer. His pants were a little too short now, which was fine considering how much clothing they had in storage.

Aiden and Nadia were sitting quietly for once, tired from their excursions in the backyard and from chasing Lucio around in the skies. Their big brother had been let off of total house restriction a long while ago. Ever since then, the eldest of their younger bunch had taken to going outside and enjoying the air in the privacy of their backyard. Days like today invited everyone outside. The twins had gone out in search of adventure and had gotten the time of their lives along with a lesson in flight.

Nadia was seconds from dozing off. She settled herself against Imogene scribbling furiously in her notebook. Unconsciously she shifted herself to allow Nadia a more comfortable spot. Her eyes were on the paper in front of her and her mutterings were familiar. She was having issues with her English homework again.

Lucio plopped down in the seat where Aiden used to be. Aiden was now in Lucio's sure grip, head lolling and doing its best to stay awake long enough to hear what their father had to say. Alfred was certainly all ears, though the older man was occupied with straightening up the den some. It was a fruitless effort. At this rate the den was going to overrun in toys until they were seventy.

Bruce almost couldn't wait.

"Where's Mom?" Lucio asked.

"Here," Clark said, quickly making his way into the room. The look he gave Bruce was condemning and final, and still thrilling as well as disappointing since this was the last time he would get to see that look directed at him. Bruce sighed in slight resignation, shifting over to allow his spouse to sit flush against him.

"Dad?"

"Hmm? Oh right." Bruce rubbed the back of his head and said without preamble, "Wally had the twins this afternoon. A boy and a girl."

"That's splendid news!" Alfred exclaimed. "I know the poor boy must have been waiting forever…"

Clark smiled to himself in remembrance of that feeling. "Yes, well…it seems like I can't escape being pregnant for another few months…" he said absently. When the silence reigned, he chuckled, shook his head and said, "We're having **another** baby."

The looks on their faces reminded Bruce of the look on his face when he saw the test the first and the last time. Clark had made a joke about framing each one, though now he wasn't so sure if they shouldn't do just that. After next month, there wasn't going to be another opportunity.

"What's that look about?" Dick asked. Bruce stared at him. Dick wanted to ask again but caught on with the scissor motion of Bruce's fingers. "Oh. OUCH."

Clark kissed the side of Bruce's face in sympathy. The upside to this was something he wasn't ever going to mention in front of the kids, but it did have him smiling at the leer his spouse gave him.

Seven was a nice lucky number.

* * *

><p>All right! That's the end for this Album!<p>

I'm renaming it soon, and the new Album will be up soon! :) Until then, you'll just have to wonder if they're having a boy or a girl...because I haven't decided yet! lol


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